In Favor
by eleanorc
Summary: Edith Crawley works for a small, independent publisher. Anthony Strallan is her boss. When Edith asks him for a rather delicate favor, he says yes, neither party really knowing the full implications of their choice.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Dear Readers, thank you so much for your kind support of my last story! It was absolutely overwhelming and very much appreciated. This story will be a bit lighter, less emotional turmoil, but of course will have plenty of tension between our OTP. :)

Thanks, and Happy Reading!

* * *

Edith Crawley sat, gripping the edge of an old wooden bench, watching winter birds peck at the frozen ground for bits of twig and grass to make their nests. She felt sick to her stomach with embarrassment, and a bit with loss. She had planned her whole speech, practiced it even, and what had come out was a rambling, trembling, emotional, irrational blur. "Oh god," she moaned, dropping her head and wincing against the memory as she replayed it over, and over.

Anthony Strallan was her boss, the Senior Editor to her Assistant Editor status, and had been for over a year. They worked very well together, complemented one another perfectly. Where he was wise she was bold, he was experienced, she was fresh, where he had patience she pushed. Between the two of them they were a powerhouse, nearly unstoppable in the small world of independent publishing. Over the past year they had spent many long days and marathon work sessions and lunch meetings together, and they had seemed to understand one another right from the start.

It was reasonable, then, that he would be Edith's choice. She didn't want a stranger—it was too foreign, left too many questions unanswerable. Having gone through the entire catalogue of men she knew, there really was only one answer for her. Anthony Strallan. Technically _Sir_ Anthony Strallan, though anyone who called him that would get a dismissive roll of the eyes. Very much like the fact that Edith was technically a "Lady," but grew legitimately furious with anyone who addressed her as such.

But she had flubbed the whole thing. Stuttering and blushing, at one point half-way through she nearly gave up and left. When it came to actually saying it, she had no other way of putting it. "Will you, please, help me to have a baby? The doctor says it's now or never, and never just can't be an option. And you're tall and healthy and smart, and you have blue eyes, and I just need a donor."

Anthony had balked, and before he could answer Edith blurted, "Take your time, of course. Don't answer right away." And then, faltering, feeling so unsure, she had added quickly, "I shouldn't have asked. I'm so sorry. Just forget I said anything. This is, well it was a mistake. I just—just don't worry, really, please."

And then she had run away, quite literally, from the office and from him. "Oh god," she said again, slapping her hand to her forehead at the picture of his stunned expression now permanently etched into her mind.

"Edith?" came Anthony's voice from behind her. She opened her eyes and turned to him reluctantly. He was wearing a dark gray sweater with a navy silk tie and a white shirt beneath and dark jeans. The sun was out despite the cold, and cast his blue eyes even brighter. He approached tentatively and awkwardly. Then, as if he gave up waiting on an invite, sat next to her gracefully and close enough that their shoulders were touching. Looking up at him, she was reminded of why he had been her only choice.

"Anthony, I'm so," Edith began but he stopped her short.

"No, I want to say something. I'm sorry I didn't earlier, only it wasn't the conversation I had expected during our usual morning tea," he said with a lopsided little grin.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," but again he held up a hand to cut her short.

"No, I really want to get this out. Edith, I was a little caught off guard. I mean, technically I'm your boss, though I think you probably throw more orders my way than I do yours."

"I know, it wasn't—"

"Edith Crawley, if you don't shut up I'll never finish a sentence. I know you're used to doing all the talking, but just this once try to listen for more than thirty seconds together, alright?"

Edith nodded weakly, relieved that he hadn't lost his humor with her.

"I had a son once," Anthony said softly.

That Edith knew practically everything about Anthony and didn't know this surprised her. But the tilt of his head and the slump of his shoulders told Edith she was being let in on something he didn't often share.

"He lived eight days. His mother, my late wife, died in birth. I assumed I would never have children." Turning to her he added, "I'm flattered that you asked me, I admit. I'm fifty next birthday and I had decidedly given up on ever having another child. I find the whole prospect a little overwhelming."

"I understand," Edith said quietly, blushing again despite herself and staring down into her lap. Of course she understood. It was a very large and very strange favor to ask of someone.

"No, you see, my answer is yes," he said brightly, if a little hesitantly.

"Oh!" Edith heaved. "Oh, do you really mean it? Oh, Anthony. Thank you. Thank you so, so much."

"I'm sorry you thought I would say no. I can't imagine what a difficult thing it must be to ask someone that question."

"No harder than hearing it, I imagine," she said, wiping her face of the embarrassing tears.

"So how do we," he began awkwardly, "I mean, what do I do? Well, I imagine I know _that_ part, but how do we…go about this?"

Edith laughed away a little sob and straightened up a bit. "I'll take care of everything. You won't have to do anything, aside from the obvious. The doctor will contact you. I'm afraid you might learn a bit more about my ovulation than you ever cared to, but I'll try to keep it all as private as possible."

"I don't mind all that," he said quietly. "You know me better than anyone as it is. I just…" He paused, took a deep breath, and then laughed. "I guess it's just new territory."

"For you and me both," she smiled.

If an omniscient stranger had appeared to them at that moment and suggested that perhaps there was more at work than Edith's want of a child, both parties would have emphatically denied the accusation. They were friends, and they were determined to remain so despite such an emotional thing as making a baby.

Seven weeks later when Edith burst into Anthony's office with a wide and telling grin, they were both delighted. Their endeavor had succeeded. To Edith, Anthony had become the rescuer; for him, Edith was the fiercely brave mother. And they celebrated their success with a rather indulgent meal of curry takeout at Edith's flat. That Edith promptly threw up said meal and fell asleep on her sofa, where Anthony laid a blanket across her and turned out the light before cleaning up the dishes, was seen largely as a happy confirmation by both.

"And how are we feeling this morning?" Anthony asked a week later as Edith came into his office and sat weakly on the sofa.

"The doctor said morning sickness usually abates after the first trimester. Six weeks has never felt so far away," she replied with a yawn. Still, she couldn't hide the satisfied grin that pulled at her full lips. When Anthony tossed aside the manuscript in his hands and dropped next to her, he found her contented glee a bit contagious.

"What doctor is that?" he asked conversationally.

"My doctor, the one who will look after me during the pregnancy. Rich Clarkson. I had my first appointment today."

"Oh," Anthony replied, looking somewhat stricken. Edith sat up quickly.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"Nothing at all," Anthony said, trying to seem as casual as possible. But Edith gave him that look—the one she had when she really dug her heels in about something. He sighed. "If you'd like someone to take you to the appointments, that is if you need the company, or a hand or what have you. Well, I certainly wouldn't mind."

"You needn't feel responsible, you know," she said tenuously. She worried it might be too much to ask, being that he'd already given so much. She didn't know how to articulate the loneliness she felt lying on the table all by herself, or how she had longed to have him there with her.

Anthony shrugged. The fact was, he wanted to go to the appointments, to see the ultrasounds and hear the heartbeat and even hold Edith's hair when she was sick. Anthony Strallan, in fact, wanted to be a father. But Edith had not asked him to raise a baby with her, only to help her make one, and his job as detached donor had finished.

"No, well," he muttered noncommittally. "If you ever need a ride, just let me know."

"Yes, alright, thank you," she replied. After a moment of uncomfortable silence—a new phenomenon the two of them had never experienced before—Edith perked up. "Oh, there is one thing, if you would be so kind."

"Anything at all," he said, glad to be of further use.

Edith chewed her lip. "It's nearly Christmas, and I'm telling my family on Christmas Eve about the baby and all. They didn't even know I was having problems. Anyway, we're not incredibly close, but they've a right to know I suppose. And I was thinking, it might be easier to explain it all if maybe you came with."

Anthony's heart admittedly quickened. "I—you want me to tell them with you?"

"Is it too much? It is, isn't it? I'm sorry. You needn't worry," Edith said quickly. She began straightening the papers on the table before them for something busy to do.

"No, no, no," Anthony said, gently stilling her hands by the wrists. "No, I would be glad to. Will you tell them the whole truth? That we work together and it was…artificial and whatnot?"

"Takes a bit of the romance out of the thing," she joked wryly, "But yes, the truth. You're my friend, and you did me a favor, and now I'm going to be a mum. Simple as that."

"Yes," Anthony agreed. "Simple."

The real _truth_ Edith had mentioned was not actually something she or Anthony was willing to address or even acknowledge. With so much unspoken, and so many rules yet to be laid, the two of them carried on blindly, knowing only how they felt and never what the other was thinking.

Instead, they believed their own propaganda: that this was a simple arrangement, with simple plans, and no mess. Edith would be a mother, Anthony simply facilitated that—no more, no less.

Simple.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for a lovely response! I should say that my intention is to go in a slightly untapped direction, but I hope to stay true to Edith and Anthony (among others) in modern times. This will be a less family-centric fic, and after this chapter will take place largely in the workplace and home, where we may meet some familiar faces. :) Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Update: Thanks for the tips and helpful info, all! The Sir-thing was indeed intentional. I may live in the States but I didn't always. :) I went ahead and revised to avoid any further confusion. Thanks for looking out for me, though!

xoxo  
Eleanor

* * *

The three-hour drive from London to Yorkshire was prolonged even more by Edith's frequent need for Anthony to pull over so she might be sick. Every time she would apologize profusely, and every time he would say there was no need. "I'm only sorry you're having such a hard time with it," he said, handing Edith a bottle of water and rubbing her back.

"It's really a small sacrifice in the grand scheme," she insisted, managing a small but sincere smile.

Anthony watched her curiously. She was a touch paler than usual, but it didn't make her any less striking. Edith's beauty was a natural and unusual sort, and Anthony knew that, like fine artwork, not everyone had the eye to fully appreciate it. Her dark, dark eyes were bright and deep, framed by long, soft lashes. Her hair, a strawberry sort of blonde, had a natural wave that Edith didn't fight but didn't encourage. Always brushing against her elegant jaw, Anthony often had the urge to tuck it behind one of her ears.

Edith dressed in a way Anthony appreciated too, reflecting her practical and sophisticated nature. Often slacks or dark jeans were paired with basic tee-shirts or feminine blouses and what Edith called 'boyfriend sweaters.' She had a seemingly infinite supply of patterned scarves and petite flats, and one navy blazer Anthony knew she was particularly fond of.

"Have you always wanted to be a mother?" he asked, chiding himself for dwelling at all on Edith Crawley's appearance and pulling the car back onto the road.

"I think so, yes. I mean, deep down I think it was always there, but I didn't realize how badly I wanted it until I started growing up. And then when the doctor said I was running out of time, I knew it was the only thing I ever really wanted."

"Funny how that happens, you never realize what you want until you nearly lose it," Anthony mused. "Curious that we're always so blind to what's right before us."

Edith watched him with narrowed eyes as he pulled the Land Rover around another bend. She wondered what he meant, hoping for a moment that perhaps he was trying to reveal something to her. But then they passed the familiar stone walls outside Downton Church, and she knew they were nearing her parents' home. Nerves overcame her and all other, more whimsical or romantic thoughts were pushed aside.

"You're looking rather pale again, do we need to stop?" Anthony asked.

Edith released a hysterical little laugh and shook her head. "No, no. It's just sinking in exactly what I've come to do, what I've got to tell them, and I'm… well I'm terrified, actually."

"You won't have to do it alone, at least," Anthony offered. It was a strange position for him. He felt an impulse to be responsible, to make an "honest woman" of Edith, as though he had done something by mistake. In reality they had acted according to Edith's deliberate and methodical plan. It felt like they were driving to a shotgun wedding, when Edith was actually getting exactly what she wanted, and that did not include Anthony.

"Why do you look so sad?" she asked suddenly, causing Anthony to flinch slightly.

"Sad? Not in the least. A bit nervous, I suppose. Again, this is just very unfamiliar territory."

"I know. I feel like I'm a teenager again and I'm going to be in trouble. But Anthony, I'm twenty-seven years old, I've made a decision and I have a plan, and I'm perfectly capable. It'll be fine."

Knowing Edith was telling herself as much as him, Anthony nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

"The drive is there, on the left," she said a few minutes later. An open cast iron gate between two large stone columns marked a long and well-manicured drive that seemed to go on for a mile.

"You grew up here?" Anthony asked.

"Yeah, it was a real fairytale," Edith said sarcastically. She leaned forward with a sharp breath, he noticed, when they came around a final bend and the great house came into view.

The Abbey, or as it was affectionately known in the village, 'the Castle,' was a huge stone building with great turrets surrounded by sprawling lawns. Anthony was well aware that Edith was part of the Earldom of Grantham. Her father was the sixteenth in a long line of Lords, all Crawleys. She refused to play into what she called 'bollox.' "Why should it matter to me?" she had once asked him, "I won't inherit the title anyway, just like I didn't inherit the attitude, the refinement, or the fine Crawley nose."

Anthony pulled the Land Rover to stop in the round gravel drive, and they both peered out across the frozen yards.

"Mary and Matthew-married two years, not supposed to talk about the fact that they're cousins, no matter how distant. Tom and Sybil-married six months, not supposed to talk about runaway weddings or Ireland in general. Robert-fond of sports and his investments, don't mention politics, Cora-American, Granny-avoid if possible. Did I miss anyone?"

Anthony had rambled the list while he stared absently at the landscape.

Edith laughed through her nose, as charmed by his memory as she was dreading the next several hours. "Don't forget Isis the dog and Papa's one true love."

Anthony smiled nervously at her, his Edith. Though when he started thinking of her as 'his' he wasn't sure.

"Are you ready?" Anthony asked gently.

"I know I've made the right decision," was Edith's reply, fierce and determined as ever.

"Have I told you yet how incredibly brave I think you are?" Anthony wondered, almost in a whisper. Edith turned to him, lips trembling.

"Thank you for saying that, even if you don't mean it."

"But I do mean it."

"I don't feel very brave at the moment," she muttered with a sad grin.

"It'll be alright. Putting it off won't make it any easier."

"Thank you," she said as he moved to get out. Taking his arm to stop him she said again, more pointedly. "Thank you. For everything."

The Crawleys were gracious and well-practiced hosts. Anthony was welcomed first by Cora with a formal kiss on the cheek. "Do come in," she smiled. "I'm so, so glad you could join us. Edith says you don't have family?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Mama, honestly," she hissed.

"It's quite alright," Anthony offered. "Thank you for having me."

Robert stepped up then, offering a hand. "You're very, very welcome Anthony. Come, maybe you can settle a debate between my sons-in-law and myself. Tell me, are you a football fan?"

Anthony looked over his shoulder as he was ushered away with the boys. Edith offered a sympathetic smile before her sisters had her.

"How's work? How's London? Is it terribly exciting living in town?" Sybil asked quickly.

"Are you still single?" Mary asked coolly.

Edith felt her stomach turn again, though whether it was the pregnancy or the familiar stress of being home she couldn't quite tell.

An hour later, when they gathered for dinner, Edith managed to pull Anthony aside. "Sorry about that. Did you survive alright?"

"Indeed. Matthew and Tom are incredibly nice chaps. I may or may not have tentatively hired Matthew as our new PR man. We'll hash it out later."

"Really? And Papa?"

"I just agreed with everything he said. We seemed to get on well enough."

Edith laughed. "Now you know why he and I fight so much. I never did have a talent for agreeing with Papa."

"Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, old girl, but the worst is yet to come."

"And I'm not even allowed to drink," Edith carped with a smile before Cora was urging them into the dining room.

The bread pudding and treacle tart were being passed. Robert was chatting with Matthew about cricket, Sybil and Mary were discussing the latest gossip, Tom was yet again refusing Cora's pleas to move to the great house with them, and Granny was politely but blatantly grilling Anthony about all his personal details.

"I have an announcement to make," Edith said timidly. When no one but Anthony looked up, she said again, "Pardon the interruption, I just want to say a quick word." Still she went unheeded. Anthony cleared his throat uncomfortably, wondering when it was appropriate to step in. He found himself annoyed that she was given no mind.

"I'm going to have a baby," Edith nearly shouted.

The table went silent as all eyes slowly traveled to Edith. Anthony would not have blamed her if she had balked under such scrutiny, but Edith held her chin up, one eyebrow raised defiantly.

"Do you mean sometime in the future you plan on having a baby, or like, you're pregnant now?" Mary asked.

"I'm pregnant, due in August," Edith said with an optimistic nod.

"Edith, I didn't know you were seeing anyone," Cora said in a breathless, screeching voice. Several pairs of eyes traveled tentatively to Anthony, though no one spoke their suppositions if any were had.

"I'm not. I've been having some problems, and the doctor said that if I wanted to have children now was the time, so I said okay, I'll have a baby."

"Just like that?" Robert asked incredulously.

"Well I did think about it, a lot, and I realized I couldn't _not_ be a mother. I want a baby desperately, so I decided to have one."

"Forgive me, it's been a while, but I seem to remember that making a baby requires two people," Violet chimed in, sipping casually at her wine.

To this Edith did blush slightly, though Anthony was the only one to notice. "Well, yes, and traditionally I would have met the man of my dreams, fallen in love, gotten married, and so on. But I didn't have that kind of time, so I used a donor."

"Good god, a donor?" Robert coughed. There was a general outcry of disapproval.

"Edith, you're having a stranger's baby?" Cora asked emotionally.

"No, I realized I didn't want so many questions unanswered, so I asked a very dear friend. He is terribly intelligent, kind, good, handsome, tall, has no genetic history of disease or mental illness, and he's brilliantly funny."

It was Anthony's turn to blush. He stared at the napkin in his lap for a moment, unable or unwilling to look at Edith, though he felt her eyes fall on him.

"Well, do put us out of our misery, do we know the man that would be the father of this baby?" Robert asked, his tone as sarcastic as it was hostile.

"Yes, it's Anthony," Edith chirped with a satisfied little grin.

When all the Crawleys looked from Edith to Anthony, he felt every muscle in him go tense. How Edith had managed it just minutes ago with such grace baffled him.

"I, that is, we, well Edith asked if I" Anthony stuttered, feeling like a school boy caught by the truancy officer.

"You two are _together_?" Robert boomed, throwing his napkin on the table.

"No, we're just friends. Anthony has done me a great favor, and I wanted you all to meet him just so you know where your grandchild and niece or nephew came from."

"This is, without a doubt, the strangest thing I've ever heard," Violet mused, now eyeing Anthony conspicuously.

"Surely stranger things happen every day," Edith sighed, slouching in her chair slightly and absently folding her hands against her flat stomach. "Anyway, I'm terribly, terribly happy. And only a bit queasy, thank you for asking."

"I think it's brilliant," Sybil offered, beaming at Edith across the table.

"Really?" Edith asked quietly, softening her defenses a touch at her little sister's encouragement.

"Absolutely," Sybil replied, nodding slowly. "I don't see anything wrong with a woman taking charge of her life and doing something on her own."

"This isn't one of your _causes_, Sybil. She's having a baby," Mary snipped.

"Well I'm still a little confused," Cora said. "I mean, who's going to be responsible for this baby? What's Mr. Strallan's involvement going to be, exactly?"

"It's _Sir_, actually" Edith said pointedly, knowing the title would mean something to them, "is not 'responsible' for anything. He's done me a favor is all. I'm the mother, and I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own."

"Do you realize how selfish you sound?" Mary gasped. "Have you thought about the life your baby will have?"

"A very good one, full of love," Edith replied.

"If I may," Anthony interjected, finally finding his voice, "Edith doesn't take anything lightly, and she especially didn't take this as such. I have every faith in her ability as a mother."

"Will you be the father? Or just 'the donor' to the baby?" Matthew asked, more out of curiosity than criticism. Anthony opened his mouth to speak, but Edith blurted out an answer for him.

"Stop making Anthony uncomfortable. Look," she sighed, standing up. "I'm very, very happy and I thought you all had the right to know. And now you do. So if you decide to come around and be positive and helpful, you know where to reach me. In the meantime, I'm tired, and nauseous, and I'd like to go home."

Anthony stood as well, rather caught in the middle. His ingrained social propriety told him he was being a bad guest, but the way Edith looked up at him, so full of question and fear and need, he realized he would have walked out on the Queen herself to take Edith's side.

"You're going to drive the three hours back to London right now? I thought you were staying the night," Cora said, maternal concern for their immediate safety outweighing concern over Edith's news.

"I think we'll risk it, thank you," Edith said. She took their things from the table in the grand foyer and Anthony followed helplessly into the cold night.

They didn't speak. Anthony put his coat over Edith's lap when they first got in to protect from the chill that had settled over the car. By the time the heater had kicked in and the car had warmed up, Edith was asleep.

"Edie, sweetheart, we're here," Anthony said softly, patting Edith's shoulder. She woke slowly, frowning slightly as she got her bearings.

"I slept the whole way? I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You obviously needed it." After a moment, as she sat up and gathered her purse in her lap, Anthony asked, "You alright to stay here on your own?"

Edith smiled. "I'm used to doing things on my own. And I'm used to my family. I'm fine. I am sorry if they made you uncomfortable, though."

"They didn't. They'll come around."

"Maybe," she sighed with a shrug. Opening the door she turned back to Anthony. "It's still Christmas. No sense in being alone. Want to come over tomorrow?"

"Brunch?"

"Yeah. Happy Christmas, Anthony."

"Happy Christmas, Edith." Anthony watched as Edith made her way into her building, and assured the door was shut and she was safely inside before pulling away.


	3. Chapter 3

"Daisy, have you heard from Edith?" Anthony asked as casually as possible. His assistant shrugged, not looking up from the mail she was sorting.

Daisy had a certain verve to her that Anthony found amusing, and when she used it to get him out of meetings or to put pushy authors in their place, he had a great fondness for it. When she moved from receptionist to executive assistant her sass experienced a proportionate rise as well, but Anthony didn't mind. He felt rather protective over the girl, and secretly enjoyed that he shared her with Edith.

"No, boss. She had a meeting with that editor from the Sketch about one of his columns and never showed. Think she's alright?"

"I'm sure. Try her at home just in case, though, will you?"

"Already did. No answer."

"Alright, thanks Daisy," Anthony said, returning to his desk. His office was dark, having not bothered with the lights, and he ignored the stack of work waiting for him.

Anthony watched out the window as the snow fell in the damp, soggy day. It was unlike Edith to be late without calling. She would have at least called him, he thought. He knew that at ten weeks her morning sickness had only gotten worse.

As Anthony was prone to do, he began to think of the worst case imaginable. Perhaps she had decided to drive in and the overnight snowfall had caused an accident. Perhaps she had gotten lightheaded and fallen in the shower. What if something had gone wrong and she was in hospital, alone and heartbroken and sick, or worse?

"Daisy, I'm going to run some errands. Clear my schedule for the day, will you, please?"

"Yes, boss," she said brightly. "Mr. Barrow won't be pleased. He had a pitch at noon he wanted you to sit in on."

"He'll get over it. Need anything while I'm out?"

"Mmm," she said with a bright, girlish smile, "Chocolate hobnobs?"

"Certainly," Anthony said absently, gathering his coat and scarf from the rack. "Back in a few."

"Alright," Daisy muttered, turning back to the work in her hands. Then, quietly enough so that only Anthony could hear she added, "And tell Edith I said hello."

Edith had not told anyone at the office that she was expecting, and she certainly hadn't told anyone about Anthony's involvement in the blessed event. Anthony didn't think it was his place, and so felt a little awkward about the thing. He knew she was suffering terrible morning sickness, but didn't know how to help her. He wanted to offer his assistance, but didn't want to be intrusive. On the whole, Anthony felt rather handicapped to do anything, and he felt utterly useless.

"Edith?" he called, knocking on her door for the third time. When he still got no reply, he took the spare key from under her pot of dead geraniums, and let himself in.

"Eed?" he called again, looking around and assessing the flat. Everything was in mild disarray, coats slung over the back of the couch, a teacup and a box of biscuits on her coffee table, shoes thrown across the entry. It looked exactly the same as it always did. His Edith was not the tidiest sort.

"Edith?" he called again, moving down the hall toward the bedroom. As he passed the kitchen he saw her mobile on the table, buzzing with a new voicemail.

"Anthony?" her voice called weakly. "Is that you?" He followed it to her closet.

She wouldn't be surprised to find him in her flat. They spent many nights at each other's homes reading manuscripts or working on a new layout. They got together often enough for a movie or dinner or whatever cultural thing she was dragging Anthony to. It might have looked unusual, Anthony realized, to an outsider. But he and Edith were friends, possibly best friends, and everyone needed someone to rely on.

Edith stood among a large heap of clothes, wearing a bra and nickers and a pair of unbuttoned gray slacks. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy from crying and lack of sleep. As he waited for her to speak her lip began to tremble.

"I slept in by accident because I'm just so tired all the time, and then I was sick twice by the time I got out of the shower. I'm only ten weeks gone and none of my clothes are fitting, and the smell of my own perfume is making my stomach turn. My mother hasn't stopped calling me since New Year's, and I keep blowing off this Gregson fellow who wants to turn one of his columns into a book of essays. I've been up for an hour and I'm already ready for a nap. I'm only ten weeks in, Anthony, and I'm a mess, and I just wonder what a horrible mother I'll be by the time the baby gets here."

And then Edith erupted into tears.

Anthony moved quickly, pulling her into his chest. "It's alright, old girl, you're doing just fine."

"I'm fat, I'm tired, and I'm going to lose my job."

"Edith, you won't lose your job because I'm your boss, and I'm not going to fire you. And you're tired because your body is growing a baby. And you're not fat, remotely, you're just a little pregnant and it's barely starting to show."

"Even my boobs are all spilling out all over the place," she sniffed.

"I'm rather fond of what this business is doing to your breasts, actually," he said dryly.

"Pig," she laughed, pushing him away and wiping her tears.

"Are you alright?" he said more seriously, handing her his handkerchief. Edith nodded, slipping a white camisole on. "I was ready to start calling hospitals," Anthony confessed, helping Edith gather up the pile of discarded clothes.

"I'm sorry, I should have called."

_Friends_, Anthony felt the need to repeat to himself, _Friends._ But friends take care of each other too, he reasoned, and Edith needed at least a little care.

"Look, I," he began, nervous again about where the boundaries lied. "What would you say about maybe moving to my flat? Just until the baby comes. It's closer to the office, and then if you need anything you won't be so…alone."

"I don't need babysitting," Edith was quick to explain. He couldn't tell if her expression was one of alarm or defensiveness.

"I don't doubt your ability to do this all on your own, Edith, but I'm going to assume the worst every time you're two minutes late to anything. I'm not saying you _can't_ do it alone, I'm just saying you don't _have_ to. And," he sighed, looking as helpless as he felt, "I don't _want_ you to."

"You needn't feel obligated to me, you know," she said stiffly, wary.

"I don't feel any more 'obligated' to you now than I did before," he replied. "Please? There's plenty of room, you'll have your own bathroom, and I promise not to bother you."

Edith laughed nervously. "You really won't mind having a moody, emotional, pregnant woman living with you?"

"Well it might put a damper on the number of strippers I bring home, but no, I won't mind," Anthony quipped. He couldn't deny the lightness he felt at the mere possibility of her saying yes.

"Yes, alright, if you're sure," Edith said, trepidation still clear in her tone. Anthony heaved a sigh of relief and smiled.

They spent the rest of the day packing up Edith's clothes and things, though it didn't take much. She would be forced into maternity clothes soon enough, and Anthony's flat was furnished.

"Want to get carry-out for dinner?" Anthony offered as he set Edith's bags on the foot of her new bed. She looked around the room. It had soft blue walls, a plain white quilt with luxurious looking pillows, and a thick gray rug over the dark wood floors.

"Let's go to the store and pick up some groceries. I can't think of anything appetizing that comes in a takeout box."

"Very good," Anthony said. They were on opposite sides of the room, neither quite sure what to do next.

"Do you," Edith began, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. Anthony waited while she ran her thumbnail between her front teeth, a gesture he was well familiar with. It meant she was thinking. Looking up, she began again. "I don't know how to make it up to you, Anthony. You're doing too much."

"Edith, I'm doing what any friend would," he assured her with a weak shrug. "Please don't feel like you owe me thanks. I'm glad to have you here."

"You are?" she asked, and her voice was so small and insecure that Anthony had a strange vision of Edith as a child asking her father for approval.

"Oh, yes," he said. "It'll be nice to have a little woman around for the cooking and washing. I have some buttons that need mending. Tell me, do you darn socks?"

To that Edith laughed heartily, and the tension between them was gone again, for a time at least.

Navigating the market together, it all came very naturally. Together they planned a week worth of dinners and lunches, loading up on fruit and some green monstrosity of a drink Edith insisted on. "You should drink it as well, you know. It's full of all sorts of healthy things."

"The nagging begins already?" Anthony teased, adding another jug to their cart.

In the line, he caused Edith to jump, bursting an "Oh, damn," before rushing off. He was back almost instantly with his final item.

"Chocolate hobnobs?" Edith laughed. "What's so important about those?"

"Special request from our lovely assistant," he replied, fishing his wallet from his trousers.

Edith laughed. "Now I understand the fear. For someone so small, Daisy wields a surprising amount of intimidation."

As they were unloading the groceries in Anthony's large and relatively unused kitchen, Edith noticed the frown. No, not a frown exactly, just a certain knit of his eyebrows that always indicated he was thinking about something.

"Out with it, boss," she demanded, putting some greek yogurt in the door of the fridge.

"I was just wondering," he hedged, running a hand along his square jaw.

"Yes, I can tell."

"Edith," Anthony asked with a frown. "I was wondering, when do you plan on making your announcement to the office?" He nearly said 'our announcement' but caught himself just in time.

Edith stilled, turning to him. She was backlit from the glow of the refrigerator and Anthony had to will himself to move away from her, leaning against the counter opposite.

"Oh, well I don't plan on gathering everyone around per say, but I'll tell Daisy and Thomas certainly. More of a need to know basis, I suppose. Eventually the others will catch on, seeing as three or four months from now I'll look like I swallowed a football."

"I see," he muttered.

"What is it?" she asked, knowing something was churning in his over-brilliant mind.

"Well, and it's entirely up to you mind, but I just don't know-that is, how would you like me to," he stuttered.

"Anthony," Edith said gently, "They'll know I'm pregnant whether I tell them or not. They needn't know your involvement if you think it best."

That didn't entirely answer his question. They both began unpacking the last of the groceries, neither sure what the other was wanting. As Edith slipped into a distant silence, Anthony kicked himself. Of course he had crossed a line, acting as though he had some role in the baby's life beyond this. He was beginning to feel guilty for pushing Edith at all when she interrupted his thoughts.

"How about a movie? I don't have much in me for something heavy, but something light and fun? What do you think?" she asked.

That she wanted to spend time with him rather than retreating to her room, Anthony took as a very good sign. "Oh, yes. Anything you like."

"Good," Edith nodded, all business. "Why don't you gather some snacks, I'm going to go change into my pajamas and queue up the film, and I'll meet you at the sofa in five."

"Yes, boss," Anthony said with a cheeky grin, earning a humerous glare from Edith.

An hour later, Anthony found himself in a rather unfamiliar situation. Edith, bless her, had fallen asleep twenty minutes into the movie—some black and white American film with Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper. He hadn't been paying attention. After nibbling on crackers and cheese, Edith had drifted off with her head on the arm of the couch. It wasn't long before she had tucked her bare feet under Anthony's leg for warmth.

Now, having shamelessly watched her sleep for half an hour, Anthony was debating whether or not he should carry her to bed. The strange angle her neck took as her head bent against the sofa would no doubt leave her with an ache tomorrow. Feeling it was the only noble thing to do, Anthony carefully, meticulously, slipped one hand under her knees and the other under her shoulders, lifting Edith with almost no effort at all.

"Mmm," she sighed, "Couch-to-bed service as well? I should have moved in ages ago." She smiled lightly, still half asleep, her eyes never opening.

Anthony, the poor dear, was quite beyond words, having inadvertently thrown himself into a whole new realm of longing for Edith, as yet undiscovered. As he laid her gently on her bed, pulling the blankets from under her little form to tuck her in, she sighed and he nearly died right then.

"Thanks," she muttered, rolling away from him and into the plush pillows, pulling one close against her with her long, cloying arms. How Anthony hated that pillow for being in the exact place he wished to be.

"See you in the morning," he managed, leaving. Before he shut the door, Anthony allowed himself one last, pathetic look. Once he shut this door, he reasoned with himself, he would never think of Edith this way again. He would not push her for definitions, he would not ask her for information. He would, in short, take Edith Crawley any way he could get her, even if it was as her roommate, chauffer, cook, or employer. Repeating this to himself several times over, building his resolve, Anthony's eyes traveled one last time over the curve of her sleeping frame before finally shutting the door on her and any delusions he might have about her intentions.

Anthony Strallan and Edith Crawley were friends, possibly best friends, and decidedly nothing more.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for such lovely reviews! They're always appreciated and any feedback at all is very much encouraged. :)


	4. Chapter 4

"Daisy, I have an appointment this afternoon so I'll be leaving at 2. Is that going to pose any big problems?" Edith asked, leaning over the half-wall that marked Daisy's desk space.

Daisy's desk was situated across from Edith and Anthony's adjoining offices. On the opposite side of the floor that _A.S. Printers_ occupied were the two other Assistant Editor's offices, Thomas Barrow and Joe Molesly, and their assistant Ivy's desk. Between them lay work stations for all the copy editors, a reception desk served to separate the working half of the office from the conference rooms and the great, antique printer Anthony was so fond of.

Few people knew that Anthony was not just Head Editor, but also the A.S. in the name of the company. Much preferring the creative side of publishing, Anthony left the business end to his Manager of Operations, George Murray, who kept the largest corner office and his own assistant.

"I don't think you have any appointments," Daisy said, scrolling through Edith's schedule on the computer. "That Gregson is on the calendar for next week, just so you know. I don't think he'll be put off again."

Edith growled. "Ugh, I don't know what it is about that project, I just have no interest. Does Thomas or Joe have room for him?"

"No," Daisy said without an ounce of sympathy.

"Alright. Hey, what does Anthony have going this afternoon?"

Daisy sighed dramatically and pulled up his schedule. "He has something at 2 as well. It just says, 'First tri' in the subject line."

Edith worked hard to suppress her grin. She had told him about the 12-week checkup in passing a week earlier, dropping it casually so as not to put any pressure on him one way or another. But she had secretly hoped he would be amenable to going.

"Well, maybe I'll catch a ride with him," Edith said nonchalantly, leaving Daisy to her work.

This was a relatively big appointment. The first trimester checkup usually involved hearing the baby's heartbeat for the first time. Edith had to contain a giddy squeal of anticipation as she sat at her desk.

Anthony came in a few moments later, per their morning routine. "You might actually have me enjoying these things," Anthony mused, sipping his own green smoothie while presenting Edith with hers and taking one of the chairs before her desk.

"Don't sound so surprised, I'm always right."

"Indeed," he said sarcastically, propping one foot on his knee. "So, what are we working on? Where are we with Charlie's children's book?"

"Went to the press this morning, after Mr. Carson approved the final draft."

"Lovely," Anthony muttered, flipping through another manuscript with Edith's edits scratched over it in red. Anthony and Edith were largely in charge of fiction and poetry publications, while Thomas and Joe handled more the nonfiction—cookbooks, guides, and the like. Joe had a particular fondness for sports while Thomas appreciated cooking and fashion. The balance worked out rather well.

"Anthony?" Edith asked while he read. They hadn't spoken about the appointment again since Edith's mention, and she found herself strangely nervous to broach the subject. Copping out at the last minute, when his seaglass eyes flashed up to her, she asked, "Are you going to hire Matthew?"

"Well, yes, I think I might. I mean, nepotism aside, he's rather perfect for the job. Plenty of experience but young and relevant."

"What would you know about being young and relevant?" Edith teased, sipping at her drink and giggling at Anthony's attempted an angry face and failed.

"Anyway, he mentioned wanted to get out from under Robert's thumb, and if we spin it as doing you a favor then it just might work."

"A sort of on-loan basis?"

"Exactly. What do you think?"

"I think it's brilliant. Matthew is really talented and a hard worker, and it'll do wonders for his self-esteem to be able to work without fighting Papa and Mary on every little decision. Plus, he's sort of like the big brother I never had. I've missed him."

"Missed him?"

Edith closed her eyes, feeling an all-too-familiar wave of nausea rolling through her.

"Mary," she began, pausing to take a deep breath through her nose. Anthony leaned forward in concern. "Mary and I have never gotten along, so now that they're married Matthew and I don't see each other as much as we used to as kids."

"That's a shame," Anthony said absently, watching Edith with apprehension.

"Yes, well, everyone here will love him, it's a good fit," she said, breathing heavily. They sat in an anxious silence until Edith relaxed and opened her eyes.

"Better?" Anthony asked.

"Yes. Thank god that passed. Nothing starts my day like vomiting profusely into the waste bin under my desk," she laughed weakly.

"I thought the doctor said it would get better by the end of the first trimester. Shouldn't you be feeling better by now?"

"I do, for the most part. But there are no guarantees with this stuff. I could be sick all the way through," Edith explained, watching Anthony curiously. An awkwardness fell between them, both waiting for the other to speak.

"I, would you like me to go with you?" Anthony finally asked. Edith was so grateful he had broached the subject she nearly cried. "I know your 12-week appointment is today."

"Yes, yes please. If you want I mean. You don't have to, but it would be nice having someone there."

"Good," he said, standing abruptly. Edith stifled a giggle at his unsure demeanor. "I—that's good. I'll go, um, see that Daisy clears my schedule."

"Alright. We should leave around 1:30," Edith said, knowing full well his schedule was wide open.

"Good, splendid. Okay," the man stuttered, leaving Edith's office in a bit of a fluster. He was acting, Edith thought with a thrill, like a man who had just asked a woman on a date. Only their 'date' was to check on a child they had already conceived, after knowing each other for a year.

"It is what it is," she muttered to herself with a shrug, satisfied with the knowledge she wouldn't go to another appointment alone, and pushing all other, more difficult thoughts aside.

By the time they were in the exam room, Anthony seemed to have overcome his nervousness. Until, that is, Dr. Clarkson came in. "Mr. Strallan, I didn't expect to see you. Welcome," the kindly man greeted.

"Is it strange that I'm here?" Anthony asked Edith in a hushed voice as Dr. Clarkson washed his hands.

"Of course not. Relax," she assured.

"Alright, Edith. Why don't you lay back and we'll have a look," the Doctor said, taking a stool by the exam table and pulling up the ultrasound machine.

Edith heard Anthony swallow nervously and would have laughed if she hadn't felt so sorry for the poor man. As Clarkson rolled her blouse up and pressed the camera to her tummy, Edith eyed her body with curiosity. There was definitely a child in there, because where her stomach used to be flat was now the tiniest little bulge, just beneath her bellybutton, as if she had just eaten a rather large meal. However, the reality of her pregnancy didn't truly sink in until Clarkson gave a satisfied little "a-ha" and hit a button.

A strong and undeniable _whomp-whomp-whomp-whomp_ echoed quickly from the machine, and Clarkson pointed a finger at a flickering image on the monitor. "That, Edith, is your baby's heartbeat."

Without hesitation or thought, Anthony and Edith's hands found each other. Unable to tear her eyes away from the screen, she settled for leaning her head into his chest as he bent low over her. Nothing, not even the sound of her own pulse, was as grounding or profound or humbling as that fast little _whomp-whomp_ of her child's heart, alive and well within her.

"There's the head, you can start to make out the nose there, and little hands, and your baby's legs. See that little string there? That's the spine," Clarkson was saying. Edith and Anthony just marveled in silence as Clarkson spoke.

Finally taking a breath, Edith looked up at Anthony. His face was priceless, and Edith knew in that moment she would never, ever forget the distinct look of wonder and fear and pride she found in his features.

"It's fast, the heartbeat" Anthony managed, looking from the little flicker on the screen to the Doctor.

"182 beats per minute," Clarkson said with a satisfied nod. "Perfectly normal."

Anthony's eyes turned to Edith, his stunned expression fading into a crooked grin and eventually one of his rare, full-blown smiles. He and Edith laughed breathlessly as he leaned in and kissed her affectionately on her forehead.

Edith wanted to say something, like 'well done' or 'thank you' or 'please tell me we can be a family' but what came out was "I guess that makes this real."

Anthony shrugged dryly, composing himself, and said, "I suppose if you needed evidence you've got it."

"We'll print some pictures for you," Clarkson said. Then looking at them with a raised eyebrow he added, "For you both. Now, Edith, I've ordered some blood work, standard stuff—iron levels, hemoglobin, that sort of thing. Otherwise it all looks quite excellent. How's the morning sickness?"

"Fine," Edith answered, releasing Anthony's hand to straighten her blouse and sit up. "Better."

"She isn't eating much during the day and she's still sick regularly," Anthony said, giving Edith a stern look.

"Tattle-tale," she griped.

"Well, I'd like you to gain a bit of weight if you can, but you're still within normal range and the baby's nice and big. If the sickness doesn't get better we can prescribe something, but I try to avoid drugs if I can."

"I'll be fine, thank you," was Edith's reply as Anthony helped her from the table.

"Very well. Stop by the lab on your way out for that blood work, and we'll see you in four weeks."

"Thank you, Doctor," Edith and Anthony said in unison.

Waiting for the technician to call her back for her blood draw, Anthony broke the easy silence. "I'm sorry. For overstepping in there with Dr. Clarkson. I shouldn't have said anything."

He looked stricken, as though he had done something utterly reprehensible. Again, Edith was tempted to laugh at him but felt it would be terribly ungenerous of her.

"What on earth do you mean?"

"About the morning sickness. I shouldn't have answered for you."

"Anthony, I'm far too stubborn for my own good. You were probably right to mention it. Please, never feel like you have to hold back about this," Edith said. She almost added, 'Please be as involved as possible' but felt it was too needy, too obligatory.

"It's rather remarkable, isn't it?" he asked with a soft grin, changing the subject.

"Which part?"

"That there's an entire little human in there. Complete with spine and hands and feet," Anthony muttered sheepishly. Edith could tell be the quick shrug of his shoulders he wasn't being maudlin so much as totally and wonderfully sincere.

"It is rather, yes. I don't think I truly believed it until today. In roughly six months' time I'm going to have a baby. I'm going to be a mother."

"Yes, you will be," Anthony said quietly.

He slumped back in his chair and looked at Edith. She couldn't read his expression. Something between honored and gratified and sad settled onto his features. Convention told Edith she should look away, but something deeper and far more powerful kept her eyes locked on his. So much was always unsaid between them, this great dormant thing that neither had the ability or the bravado to stir. Now, in this moment, it came surging up between them, threatening to explode.

"Miss Crawley?" a technician asked, causing Edith to jump violently. The tech was wearing a white coat and holding a folder of paperwork. "We're ready for you." It took Edith a full thirty seconds to come back from Anthony's stare, to remember she was in a waiting room at the hospital, that this person was waiting for her, that Anthony was in no capacity hers.

"I'll, um, be right back," she croaked, wondering when her throat had gone so dry.

Anthony took her coat and bag without asking and said, his tone slightly too purposeful to be casual, "I'll be here, waiting for you."

And of course he was waiting for her, that great something between them cooled and dormant once again, waiting to drive her to their home where they would laugh and cook dinner and read quietly together before going to bed in their separate rooms. As comforting as it was, Edith felt a cold pang of fear trill through her as she wondered if this, their routine, would continue to be enough.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't the most awkward conversation Edith had ever had, but it was close. Thomas Barrow was a dear friend, her best in the office besides Anthony, but he was snarky and catty and entirely disgusted by anything remotely female. His icy eyes grew wide and his mouth quirked into that pursed little smile he got whenever he stumbled across some juicy gossip.

"Please don't look at me like that. I'm having a baby is all. I just thought you ought to know."

"You secretive little minx," he finally smiled. "I didn't think you had it in you,. pretending to be all shy and innocent and prudish all the time. Tell me, who was it?"

"God, Thomas, you live for drama. It's nothing seedy or remotely exciting. I used a donor."

He made a face, snorting something between a laugh and shock. "And you didn't say a word to me? Oh, and I bet the royal Crawleys are thrilled with that little detail. The first of the next generation half stranger. Likely a commoner."

Edith laughed through her nose. Thomas shared in her distaste for all that the Crawley title entailed, though his came from bitterness rather than annoyance. "Sybil was excited, of course. But otherwise, no, they didn't exactly love the idea."

"I can't believe you're going to have a baby," he said, not quite masking his horror at the thought. "Now you'll be all boring and sensible and James and I will have to find someone else to be our date when we want ladies' night."

"Stop pouting. I'm boring and sensible now, and you and Jimmy are going to be the perfect uncles. You can teach my child the important things, like how to dress and the best way to insult people without them knowing it."

Thomas and James were quite possibly the most attractive couple Edith had ever seen, and they both worked there, though James was in accounting. They looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine, Thomas all dark and brooding, James blonde and tan and dimpled. Both of them were chiseled and dressed impeccably, and Edith always felt a little inadequate in comparison.

"Are we that terrible?" Thomas laughed.

"Yes. Anyway, you're just jealous that you won't be the only child in my life anymore."

"Well that's true," he conceded.

They were sitting in Thomas' office, Edith perched on the corner of his desk as he lounged in his chair. She glanced over at the black and white photo of Thomas and Jimmy framed on his desk.

The three of them had spent many a night curled up in Edith's bed together watching trash television and drinking cheap wine. She sighed softly, reminded again of the changes she was making.

"This won't be the end of our fun, darling," Edith promised softly.

"I know that," Thomas replied, reaching up to pinch her nose in the one affectionate gesture he saved just for her. "I know you wanted this, and I'm happy for you."

That wasn't the awkward bit, and Edith knew it. She braced herself, searching for the words, but Thomas was a keen and observing young man.

"Go on then, tell me who the father is."

"What?"

"Well you cleverly avoided the topic and now here you sit, chewing on your lip. Clearly you want to tell me."

"I do. But you have to swear not to make a big deal of it."

"Oh now I'm really intrigued," he teased.

"Just," Edith fretted, knowing it would be easier to say it all at once. "Just don't make a fuss and don't read too much into it, but it's Anthony, and I've moved into his guest room at his insistence but we're just friends, and I know it's strange but he really was the best option and he's been so wonderful, and we're just friends."

"You said that already," Thomas said coolly, narrowing his eyes at Edith. He took a deep breath, letting his firm chest rise and fall completely before speaking again. "I approve," he said simply.

"Really?" Edith asked, her voice small and hopeful and more than a little emotional.

"He is rather dashing, for an older gentlemen. Your child's going to have gorgeous bone structure."

"You don't think it's…odd? Too much, I mean?"

"No." Edith knew the man well enough to see he was biting back a comment, but she wasn't so eager to ask what it was.

"Thank you." Edith hopped up, relieved to have it all done and in the open. She stopped at the door and said suddenly, "I'm telling you because I love you and you can tell Jimmy, and I'm telling Daisy out of necessity, but everyone else will have to figure it out for themselves. And no one is to know about Anthony. No gossiping, alright?"

"Yes, _Mum_."

"And we're interviewing later for a new Assistant Editor, someone to cover while I'm gone, and if it works out they'll stay on."

To this Thomas scowled wildly. "I don't like new people."

"Well you'll have to be nice. I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Yes, Mum."

"I rather like that," Edith mused, smiling at his new nick name for her. It was far better than 'Frump' and 'Puppy' which he called her in jest and affection respectively.

Daisy's reaction could not have been more different from Thomas'. Of course, she wasn't given the details Thomas was, but Daisy was all dimples and giggles, hugging Edith and firing off a round of questions so quickly Edith was almost breathless when she practically shouted, "Daisy!"

"Sorry, it's just—well there's a little person in there. And you get to love it and dress it up and it's going to come to you when it's scared or hurt, and it's going to be yours. Babies are so sweet."

"Thank you, I am fairly—" Edith began, but Daisy interrupted with a gasp.

"Oooh! Do we get to throw you a baby shower?!"

Edith laughed lightly. "I'd rather you didn't, but maybe further down the road we can talk. For now, please keep it to yourself. And I may be calling on you to work your magic for rescheduling if I'm feeling particularly tired or sick. It's been a bit rough so far."

"Leave it to me," Daisy said with a proud little smile. There was something about the girl, her lisp or her dimples or her big eyes, that Edith found hugely endearing. Perhaps it was Daisy's naïve sweetness paired with her cheek that did it. "Are you still okay for the interviews later?"

"Oh yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you Daisy."

Before the girl left Edith's office she gave a little squeal of delight and repeated, "A Baby!" before getting back to her work.

Edith couldn't fight the grin that settled on her face then as she reclaimed the seat behind her desk. There was work to be done, query letters to review and manuscripts to look over, but Daisy's enthusiasm set something loose in Edith she had been containing. Unbridled, pure elation. How strange a feeling happiness turned out to be. In a rare display of sentimentality, she placed a hand against her stomach, feeling the tiny little mound that no one else could possibly notice, and laughed out loud.

"Careful," Anthony said softly, leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets, "You're glowing."

Edith's grin didn't fade at the sight of him, despite being caught in such a mawkish state. Her office was lit only by the lamp on her desk and the glare of day through her window, causing Anthony to be somewhat silhouetted. His posture was so telling of Anthony's secret self—quiet confidence and certitude and gentility—and his eyes were so blue, so very blue, as always.

"Eed, are you alright? You've stopped breathing. I was only teasing you know," Anthony said quickly, straightening his stance and removing his hands from his trouser pockets. For a man who caught nearly every unspoken thought in Edith's face, he could be remarkably obtuse.

"Yes, of course. Just thinking."

"Good thoughts?"

"Always…" She sighed, wondering how much of herself she could divulge without making him uncomfortable.

Edith had learned a long time ago that life was generally easier if she relied on no one but herself. Sybil was a dear, and was always appealing to their parents' with her overwhelming sweetness. Mary was demanding and clever and very, very beautiful. Edith was, admittedly, awkward and contemplative, and was rather distant and introverted as a child.

She had never felt an innate connection with any of her family, and so did nothing to cultivate one, turning instead to her books and drawing. She also became very good at hiding, literally—cupboards, closets, the attics, the gazebo benches—which Mary found highly disturbing.

As an adult, Edith recognized that her family loved her. She was also very aware of her own role in the current state of things. But none of that changed the fact that she was quite separate from the Crawleys. Now, as she stared rather blatantly at Anthony should couldn't help but feel she'd been mistaken, like she was missing out on something.

"Truly, are you alright?" Anthony asked, giving a funny sort of frown.

"I told Thomas and Daisy," Edith said, shaking herself from her mood. "Matthew starts today, should be here any minute, and we have the interviews of the short-listed applicants later."

"Busy day," Anthony agreed. "Feeling up to it?"

"I am," she assured.

"And how did Thomas and Daisy take the news?"

"Exactly as expected."

"Thomas pouted and Daisy gushed?"

Edith laughed. "Spot on as usual, Boss."

Anthony dropped his head, approaching Edith's desk and drawing little circles against the grain of the dark wood. "And did you tell them… you know."

"Thomas, not Daisy. Is that alright?"

"Of course, yeah. Anything you wish."

They exchanged an awkward moment with questioning glances before they were interrupted by Daisy.

"Hiya, Boss. Mr. Crawley's just arrived. Edith, you didn't mention your brother was so handsome."

"And married," Anthony added.

"I didn't say I was going to propose to the man," Daisy snipped, rolling her eyes.

Anthony turned back to Edith and they shared a chuckle at Daisy's sass. And then something else passed between them, something quiet and layered and indistinguishable.

"Your brother-in-law, our situation, Thomas and James—this little business is getting quite complicated, isn't it?" Anthony laughed dryly.

"Complicated is…good," Edith finally decided, standing up and pushing Anthony out the door to find Matthew.

"Is it?"

"Sure, it keeps things interesting."

"Whatever you say," he ceded, his crooked smile working to clear the tension between them.

Anthony had said it would be a busy day, and he had been right. The interviews went well, and they finally settled on a very sweet and very bright woman Edith's age.

"I was thinking of taking Matthew and Miss Swire to dinner to welcome them to the press," Anthony said as he helped Edith with the dishes that night. "What do you think?"

"Well would I be allowed to come?"

"Oh on the contrary, your presence would be required."

"In that case I think it's brilliant. We should bring George too."

"Of course," Anthony agreed, taking the last plate from Edith to put away.

"You know, if you didn't store them on the top shelf I could put the dishes away myself," Edith complained, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, but then I'd miss out on all the fun I have watching you trying to reach them," Anthony said dryly.

"And do you find me so entertaining?"

"Immensely," he answered, but this time Edith didn't hear that usual teasing tone. He kept his back to her, pretending to wipe down the already clean counters.

"I think I'll turn in early. I'm exhausted," Edith said, unsure what else to say.

Anthony offered the same farewell he had every night since she moved in. "Goodnight Edith, pleasant dreams."

Before Edith knew what she was doing she had wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing herself against him and her face between his shoulder blades. He smelled like fresh laundry and soap, and she quietly breathed him in. Her left hand grabbed her right wrist and she squeezed him a little, finally muttering, "Thank you, Anthony. Goodnight."

His whole body tensed at first, but with the breath she felt escape his lungs he relaxed. When his hand came up to pat hers lightly, she smiled against his sweater and finally let go.

Edith was still smiling when she laid down against her soft pillow, thinking about the family she was making, and the little person inside her, and the very sweet, very tall man who lived just down the hall.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading, following, favoriting and the lovely, lovely reviews! This chapter was a little business-heavy I realize, but I wanted to clear up/introduce some of the other relationships so I can get to the fun bits I have planned.

I realize too that this Edith and Anthony are doing something unexpected, but I hoped to write something new and refreshing and unexpected, and with any luck (and a bit of work) I hope to convey the same sweet, uncertain pair we are all so fond of.

Thank you again, and happy reading!  
Eleanor


	6. Chapter 6

Even Edith's usual loose-fit tee and trousers couldn't hide the bump anymore. The last eight weeks had flown by, her sickness was entirely gone, she was no longer exhausted all the time, and Edith had never felt better. Perhaps less obvious to her was the adjustment to living with Anthony. It was seamless and easy, and someone who didn't know better would easily mistake Edith and Anthony as two people who had lived together all their lives.

Days were spent totally in synch with one another—Anthony making toast while Edith, never a morning person, scrambled to get ready, Edith sorting Anthony's lights and darks rather than him wasting money on laundry service. They would work, as usual, but they would come home and cook or order out and spent most nights either going for walks or curling up in the comfortable silence of the living room and reading.

Work too was going better than usual, and whenever Edith would receive a sidelong glance, someone studying her changing shape and new wardrobe, she would pretend not to notice and run a hand over her stomach to help them figure it out.

"I don't see why you don't just make an announcement," Daisy complained, catching one of these exchanges between Edith and George Murray's wife Barbara, who had come to take him for an early lunch.

"It's just awkward, I suppose," Edith shrugged. "I'm not really sure how to say it to people."

"I know, that's complicated," Daisy said in an especially airy voice. "I mean, you'd think people would know if you said, 'I'm pregnant' but I can see where that'd be confusing." Only then did Edith realize she was being sarcastic. "Definitely more confusing and awkward than everyone eyeing you around the office and wondering if you're just getting fat."

"Lovely, Daisy," Edith said flatly. "Thank you for your input."

"Daisy, morning," Anthony greeted, leaning against the assistant's desk. He was looking through a stack of mail and didn't glance up as he continued. "Tell me, the sarcasm, do I pay you for that or does it come extra?"

"Extra, of course, Boss. Only because I care."

Edith couldn't help but snort a laugh at the girl's gall.

"You do pay for my excellent organizational skills, however, so if you would kindly _not_ fumble through my piles," she muttered, swatting Anthony's hand away.

"Were you this bossy before you got promoted?" Anthony asked, and he didn't seem to notice Daisy's raised eyebrow when he took a sip of Edith's tea as if it were a casual thing.

"Yes," Daisy said dimly, eyeing the two of them shrewdly. Anthony seemed to recognize his mistake and cleared his throat. Edith could feel his nerves tighten and was anticipating a stuttering exit before Miss Swire approached and saved them all.

"Miss Crawley?" she asked, still tentative after several weeks of working at A.S.

"Please call me Edith, Lavinia," Edith sighed warmly.

"Yeah, we're all very, _very_ familiar around here," Daisy said pointedly before taking another stack of papers from Anthony's hands and shooing him away.

"Sorry, Edith," Lavinia said with a smile. "I was just, well I had some questions about this conference I'm supposed to go to. I'm not really feeling ready to, you know, represent the company or anything. Not on my own."

"You're not on your own, Mr. Crawley's going with you," Daisy said, looking at Lavinia as though she were clueless.

"Come on, we'll go over everything together and you can ask as many questions as you wish," Edith assured, leading Lavinia into her office and shutting the door.

"What on earth was that?" Daisy asked of Anthony.

"Well, I might be mistaken, but I believe Lavinia was asking Edith for some advice on how to handle questions and presentations at the Surrey conference next week."

"No, boss. I mean what was _that_," Daisy repeated, folded her arms over herself.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Anthony answered. "Anyway, I'm off. I've got a meeting up town."

"I know. I keep your schedule," she snipped. And then, as though she didn't really want to tell him but felt obliged, she said, "Mr. Gregson is coming for a meeting with Edith just before lunch, and she hates him, so you might consider taking her out for a bite after to soothe her nerves."

"Thanks, Dais," Anthony said warmly, sincerely glad for the girl. "I'll be back."

"Yes, boss," she muttered, getting back to her work.

Lavinia left Edith's office only when Michael Gregson arrived, twenty minutes late, for his appointment. Her patience already worn thin by poor Lavinia's litany of questions, Edith's tone was unapologetically curt.

"Look, Mr. Gregson, with the right edits I think the column could make a decent collection of essays. I imagine it would do better commercially than critically, if I'm being honest," Edith explained, removing her reading glasses and setting them atop the manuscript in question.

"Well that's fantastic," Gregson smiled, leaning back in his chair in a manner too casual to be professional. "And tell me, would you be my editor?"

"I would oversee the process, but one of the junior copy editors would be handling the majority of the work. And when I go on leave at the end of July my work will be handed to Ms. Swire."

"That's a shame. My plan to get to know you over work is being thwarted. Perhaps I could take you to dinner instead?"

Edith frowned blatantly, mouth slightly slack in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "I'm sorry," she huffed, almost laughing. "Are you hitting on me, Mr. Gregson?"

He tried to look bashful and even maybe humble, but Edith saw it all as a bit practiced. "I'm afraid I am, Miss Crawley. I'm rather smitten, you see, embarrassing as it may be for a man my age to admit it."

Edith was not remotely flattered. She raised her eyebrows, aware that her lip was curling of its own volition. When Anthony was self-deprecating it was endearing. When this man did it, Edith's skin crawled. "Mr. Gregson, I'm your potential editor, and I'm twenty weeks pregnant."

"You're single though, aren't you?" When Edith just stared blankly he sputtered quickly, "Because you see, I've always been fond of children. And you won't always be pregnant. I'm really not bothered by it."

Edith sighed, exaggerating her pregnant belly, small though it was still, as she stood, and made her way to the door. "Unfortunately, Mr. Gregson, I'm bothered by it in the extreme."

"You shouldn't have to give up your life just because you're having a baby."

"Oh, not to worry," she dismissed. "Now, if you'll please. I'll be sending your manuscript to Mr. Barrow."

"Oh dear," Gregson laughed, completely unfazed. "Passing me off to another editor? I should warn you, Miss Crawley. I'm rather tenacious when it comes to getting what I want, and I'm afraid I don't give up very easily." He didn't sound menacing, only politely obstinate and more than a little conceited.

"I wish you would," Edith sighed. "I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Gregson, but I'm really and truly not interested." Edith raised one unimpressed and unaffected eyebrow as she gestured to the open door of her office.

He laughed under his breath, wagged his eyebrows at her, and sauntered off saying coolly, "I very much look forward to hearing from you Miss Crawley."

Daisy stood from her desk to watch him leave, then turned back to Edith with a skeptical sort of grimace. "What was that?"

"That? That was the single most arrogant human being to walk the earth," was Edith's reply.

An hour later, Edith and Anthony were sitting outside her favorite ice cream shop, Edith enjoying a lunch time cup of pistachio ice cream while Anthony sipped at some sparkling lemonade. The sun was out, and the street was busy, and Edith couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

As a couple walked past, it occurred to Edith that—she with her belly and Anthony across from her—they probably looked like a couple as well. She observed him with interest; the way his blue eyes darted around, the curve of his thin lips, the course blonde hair on his arms exposed by his rolled sleeves, his long, firm legs and the grain of his shaved jaw.

_Damn_, she thought, angry at herself for letting her mind wander. But she couldn't stop the train now. His nails were clean and short, hands large, knuckles square. His hair was light, slightly wispy in the breeze, and the relaxed rise and fall of his chest seemed to mock the pounding of her heart. And then her eyes settled on his lips again, and her whole body went rather gummy.

_Oh dear, oh dear_, she repeated to herself, feeling the flush warming her cheeks and creeping down her neck. This could not be allowed. To think of Anthony in this capacity was dangerous and far too risky. They had lived so harmoniously these last several months, Edith didn't dare upset the balance. Any time with Anthony, any home with him, was better than none at all. Even if it did leave her aching most nights with longing and girlish visions.

"Are you getting too warm?" Anthony asked. "You look a little flushed. Should I get some water?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly alright. Thank you," she said, willing her mind to travel away from lingering thoughts about his anatomy. "Mr. Gregson and I had a meeting this morning."

"Yes, I know. I was conveniently unavailable. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. But I think I'll hand him over to Thomas. Lavinia isn't ready yet and technically his book is non-fiction."

"Is it the project you find distasteful, or the man?"

"Yes," Edith said sardonically, closing her eyes and turning her face to the sun.

"Want me to kill the project altogether? Send him packing?"

"Yes," Edith said, matching her earlier tone. Then, peeking sidelong at Anthony, she couldn't help but smile. "But I don't suppose it makes practical business to send everyone unlikeable packing."

"I don't suppose so. Or half our staff would be out on their asses," Anthony joked. Edith liked it when he cursed. It was so rare, she felt it was intimate, like knowing that his toothbrush was blue or that he preferred orange marmalade on his toast.

"Speaking of the many miscreants we work with," he sighed, dropping some bills onto the table. "They're probably having a field day in our absence. Shall we?"

"If we must," Edith muttered, trying not to take too much delight in feeling his hand at her elbow as he helped her up.

Something was wrong, like the world was spinning in the wrong direction. Edith couldn't help but feel dread and terror, and she was alone. As she ran her hands protectively over her belly, she began to shake. Nothing. Her tummy was flat. Where had her baby gone? And where was Anthony? Standing alone in the office, all was dark, and there was a strange, unearthly glow coming from the windows. "Anthony?" she called in a panic. "Anthony?!" Desperate, she began throwing open office doors. Each room was larger and more vacant than the last, and finally, reaching what should have been his office, Edith opened the door to find nothing but a gaping black darkness. "Anthony, please, I need you!" she cried, walking into the dark unknown. She felt something akin to loss personified grip her by the wrist and pull, and then she was falling, falling into the dark.

Edith shot up with a gasp, her legs tangled in the sheets and her body drenched with sweat. She tried to remember her room, her things, but sobs wracked through her as her shaking hands checked her stomach. The baby was there, kicking even, and she tried to calm her breathing. Unable to shake the fear, irrational as it may have been, Edith stood on shaking legs and made her way to Anthony's room.

She knocked lightly at first, so much so that it made almost no noise at all. When he didn't answer she thought about turning back, but her legs were shaking and she knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until she at least saw him.

Edith took a steadying breath and opened the door, peeking only her head in. Anthony was there, of course, asleep. He was on his back, head all the way to the right, his left hand over his broad chest. One of his knees came up out of the blanket as he shifted slightly, and Edith found it fascinating that he moved in his sleep. Of course he moved, he was human, but that was just it—something about seeing him like this made him more tangible than ever before.

Willing her heart to slow, and running a hand over the small protrusion under her nightgown, Edith turned. The door was nearly closed when she heard his voice call softly, "Edith, is that you? What is it, old girl?"

"Nightmare," she answered, letting the door swing open again.

"You're alright?"

"Just a little shaken."

"Would you like to lay down here?"

"Really?" She tried desperately not to sound so…well, desperate.

"Of course," he answered, still half asleep. He flipped the covers down and Edith climbed into the bed opposite him.

Anthony's sheets smelled different from hers, like detergent but also something warmer and softer. They smelled like him, she realized, and she couldn't get enough. She pulled the sheets up to her shoulders and settled in, watching him carefully. Anthony's eyes never even opened, and she wondered if he'd be alarmed when he woke beside her in the morning.

Just as Edith was drifting off, content to be in the same room with him, let alone the same bed, she felt the weight in the mattress change. Before she could look, Anthony had rolled into her, pushing one arm under her pillow while the other draped across her belly. Edith smiled broadly in the dark and hoped to god he wasn't awake enough to remember her fingers lacing through his as the drifted off together.

"The nightmare, was it about Gregson?" Anthony asked suddenly, scaring the breath out of Edith's lungs as her eyes popped open. She looked over her shoulder at him. His face was so close, but his eyes were still closed and his muscles relaxed.

Settling back against her pillow, accepting whatever it was that was happening, she sighed. "No, if it had been I'd far more inconsolable."

"Good girl," Anthony whispered, and Edith thought he might even have kissed her shoulder, but it was so light she couldn't tell, and before she had time to overthink it, she had fallen asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The 26-week checkup was on a Tuesday, and Edith was all smiles and giddy excitement.

"What is it about this appointment specifically that has you so worked up?" Anthony asked with a laugh, picking up on her contagious joy as they sat in the waiting room at Dr. Clarkson's office.

"You'll see."

Anthony frowned, running a hand over her chin as he thought. "Twenty-six weeks," he muttered, "Twenty-six." And then the number triggered his memory and he knew. "Oh! The sex!" he practically shouted, earning a few strange glances from other patients.

Edith just laughed gently at him. "Someone's been reading my baby books."

"Today we get to learn the sex of the baby," Anthony repeated, looking rather less like his dignified self and more like a young boy at Christmas.

Edith laughed again, and nodded to put the dear man out of his misery. As he settled into his chair again, deep in some train of thought, Edith took a steadying breath.

It was difficult, in these moments, to remember that it wasn't real—not all of it, at any rate. The morning after her nightmare she had woken to find him already out of bed and making their usual breakfast of toast and juice. They had pretended like nothing happened, but that night there had been an awkward moment of silent questioning and wordless invitation, and she had fallen asleep with him again.

It didn't happen all the time, but regularly, and usually when Edith was feeling particularly emotional or alone. But for two such verbal people, they never talked about it. Sharing a bed was something that blatantly did not fit into the category of friends, but then little of what they were did anymore. And what they were was completely indefinable. Edith could only churn it over for so long before she would drive herself mad, and so she worked hard not to dwell on anything beside the moment.

And in the current moment, the nurse was calling her and Anthony back to find out the sex of their child. Well, _her_ child, though Edith allowed herself a half moment to wish that Anthony would ask for more.

"Well we can never be one hundred percent certain with the ultrasound, but would you like to know the sex?" the technician asked.

Edith and Anthony, holding hands as they looked at the image on the screen, nodded together.

"You're going to have a daughter," the tech informed with a warm smile. Replacing the camera and handing Edith a towel for her belly, she added, "I'll print the best images out for you to show off, and when you're all cleaned up you can meet Dr. Clarkson through that door there. He'll go over the usual with you."

"Thank you," Edith and Anthony both muttered as Anthony helped Edith down from the table. Both of them were avoiding eye contact for the sole purpose of containing their individual glee.

"Congratulations, Mum and Dad," the tech offered, slipping away before she could see the intense and awkward fit of blushes and stuttering from the pair.

"It's no matter, I mean," Edith offered just as Anthony stammered, "I wouldn't presume, that is to say," and then silence fell between them.

Waiting in Dr. Clarkson's office, Anthony finally broke the tension. "A girl is good news, yes?"

"Oh, I think it's perfect. I've only had sisters. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with a boy."

"Oh, you'd have done beautifully either way. Of that I'm sure," Anthony said softly. Just as Edith turned to him, mouth open with a pending question, the good doctor came in with Edith's chart and latest blood tests.

Twenty minutes later, Edith and Anthony were walking down the street on a perfect Spring evening.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm famished," Anthony offered, clapping his hands together brightly.

"Anthony, I'm quite pregnant and therefore almost always famished." Edith was not shy about her symptoms—hunger, sore breasts, bouts of energy and then fatigue, cravings for pistachio ice cream and shortbread cookies.

However, there was one particular hunger that had grown increasingly intense and continued to go unsatisfied. She couldn't even bring herself to talk to Clarkson about the fact she was experiencing the almost constant urge to, frankly, attack Anthony at any given moment. Her baby books mentioned hormones, but hers seemed relatively focused on the quiet, bumbling man who was currently walking beside her. Just watching him now, lit by the low-hanging sun, hands clasped happily behind his back, she felt her pulse race and chewed her bottom lip hungrily.

"Very well, what would you say to Le Gavroche?"

"Really?!" she grinned, unable to hide her girlish delight.

"I think a daughter is news worth celebrating," Anthony suggested, causing Edith to go a bit weak in the knees.

"Yes, but we haven't a reservation."

"Will you think me a terrible lout if I said 'I know people' and flashed a bit of money?" Edith shook her head. The poor man had more money than he knew what to do with and it made him genuinely uncomfortable.

"No. Special occasion and all," she managed, biting back a squeal as he hailed a cab.

And it was a special occasion. Or it turned out to be at least. For Edith it felt different. Something, over the course of an exquisite and indulgent French meal, shifted between them. It felt, she realized with delight, like a first date. She quickly admonished the notion. They had known each other a good while, and had eaten together a thousand times. They had recently taken to each other's beds two or three times a week, for christ's sake, she reminded herself.

Still, as they leaned close over the white linens in the low light of the finest restaurant in London, laughing and talking endlessly, Edith couldn't help but feel this was a significant first.

By the time Edith and Anthony got home and were relaxing on the couch, their conversation had found its way to a rather sensitive subject, one they had both been careful to avoid for a while.

"That's all there is to say about it, really," Anthony said, honestly believing the story of his marriage to be dull. "We met at uni, married too soon, grew bored early on and lived companionably if not listlessly for too many years."

"Where is Maud now?" Edith asked, dropping her head to one side in that way that made Anthony's palms itch to touch her white neck.

"Living in America, New York, with her new husband who is ten years younger than her and climbs rocks for fun. I'm glad for her, immensely so. Maud's a frightfully good woman."

"It's sweet that you feel so fondly about her," Edith said with a smile. Then her face sort of froze as she wandered some train of thought, and Anthony had to stop himself from eagerly asking every single thing she was thinking.

"And you, old girl? You've known about Maud all along. I've never once heard you talk about some strapping footballer with a tan and muscular thighs," Anthony teased, half hoping she'd refute his assumptions.

"Oh god, that is so not me, and you know it. Mary on the other hand, Mary had a whole litany of athletes falling at her heels."

"I don't care about Mary," Anthony said too quickly, kicking himself for sounding so interested.

"There was one," Edith said, leaning back into the sofa and twiddling her thumbs. "Only one, and it was a very long time ago."

"Turn around's fair play, old girl," Anthony said warmly, urging her on.

"His name was John Drake," Edith began. "We met when I was nineteen, and he was thirty-three. And," she risked a glance up at Anthony, "he was married."

"Oh?" Anthony said, doing his best to sound neutral and unaffected. Inwardly he wanted to hunt the man down for exploiting his Edith. A distinct urge to protect her and make her feel better about it all at once gripped at him, but Anthony fought it down.

"Oh, I feel so wildly ashamed when I look back on it," Edith sighed, running her hands over her face as though she were weary with life.

"You shouldn't feel ashamed," Anthony said, wishing he could help. "You're only human, plenty of people have fallen into the same trap. And you were practically a girl anyway."

She looked sidelong at him and smiled skeptically. "You're doing an awful lot of rationalizing there, Strallan. Anyway, you know me. I'm practical and level-headed, and I was back then too." She looked away again, down at her lap. "No. I knew it was wrong, I knew it would end badly, and I knew I was hurting someone, and I did it anyway."

Edith was beginning to tear up, and her cheeks were growing redder. Feeling it was acceptable, Anthony took her hand in his and encouraged gently, "What happened?"

When she replied her voice was small, but had a forced casual tone. "I met him at one of Papa's parties. They worked together. We carried on for three years, meeting when we could, sneaking around when I was home from Uni. We even went away together once, for two days to Cornwall." She took a deep breath and continued. "But then the inevitable happened. His wife and I both suspected we were pregnant at the same time. Which is how I found out things were not so broken between them as he led me to believe."

Anthony balked, really and truly gaped, and didn't try to hide it. He had not expected Edith to come out of this story pregnant. Something white hot and foreign flashed through him, and he was terrified to realize it was jealousy. Jealous that another man had done what Anthony was currently doing, well sort of doing. But that was his baby in Edith and he loathed the idea of another man being in there first.

Edith let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, not to worry, the irony of _that_ situation does not escape me. It turns out I was wrong, obviously, but she was not. So John did the right thing and recommitted himself, I suppose, and that was it."

"She took him back?" Anthony asked incredulously.

"She did. Margery Drake is a kind, patient, resilient, and noble woman. All the things I'm not. She hates me, of course, and has the right. But I think they're genuinely happy now. Of course, my father found out and the whole family was horrified and I don't think my parents have looked at me the same ever since. But they've moved on, as have the Drakes, and most of the damage has been healed."

Only then did her family's reaction to her pregnancy make sense. They had responded with something akin to disgust, mask it though they tried, as though they expected her news to be unplanned, accidental, and somewhat unsavory. It made sense too that she had hardly spoken with anyone but Sybil since Christmas, and they never made any attempt to come see her.

Knowing Edith, her innate goodness and her willingness to love and nurture those around her, Anthony's heart broke. All at once, he understood so much of the shy doubt and self-deprecation she had always exhibited. The poor thing had been wretchedly deprived of compassion, and for far too long.

"And you?" Anthony asked quietly, still holding her hand.

Edith was trying to sound cool and aloof, but Anthony knew the difference between her and her defenses. "Oh, well, you know that bit, really. I swore off men, devoted myself to my career, and work relatively hard to accept whatever acute or ongoing karmic punishment the universe has in store."

Anthony whispered her name as if to shush her, but Edith, feeling wholly undeserving of even the smallest touch from such a person as Anthony, pulled her hand away from him.

"Anthony, look," she said, explaining what she saw as obvious. She didn't need him trying to spare her feelings from what was evident fact. "I'm used up. I gave myself away to a fleeting and bad idea, and as punishment I've been left with this: a barely fertile body and a baby who will likely resent the hell out of her wasted, tired, single mother one day. And when she asks about my past, as she will inevitably do, she'll be as disappointed and ashamed of her mother as I am in myself."

She said this so resolutely that Anthony's first thought was _How will I ever convince her she's wrong?_ His first instinctual action was to take her hand again, more firmly this time, and with purpose. "Do you think you're being punished, Eed? That your…fertility is something you've earned? You may have made a mistake sweetheart, but no one deserves to be alone."

"Oh? And what have I earned?" she managed before the sobs began breaking from her chest.

"A child," Anthony said simply, putting his free hand on her stomach, "Who will love you unreservedly. And any measure of happiness you allow yourself to discover."

With that, Edith couldn't hold back any longer. Burying her face into Anthony's chest, she cried—really cried—for the first time in many, many years.

Hours later, Anthony woke, disoriented and fuzzy. Edith was lying against him, her left arm draped across him, her head resting against his left breast. His left arm was around her, his right hand was locked with her left against his lower abdomen.

His body was slightly stiff from sleeping on the sofa, but there was another, more alarming sensation at the pit of his stomach. And when Edith shifted, her grip on his hand re-tightened and her forearm came to rest across his lap, and that unbearable tugging grew.

Anthony, for all intents and purposes, was indeed a man. Beyond the basics of biology he was a man who cared deeply for the precious and unusual woman who, at this very moment, was unwittingly touching a place no woman had touched in years—both figuratively and literally.

Every muscle in his body went tense with the silvery thrill of contact, and fight it though he did, his bodily reaction was immediate and quite evident, and rather uncomfortable against his trousers. That he had just been dreaming of his Edith in slightly similar circumstances before he woke did nothing to help the situation. He cursed himself, feeling like a bloody teenager.

Trying to ignore the throbbing, and the smell of Edith's hair, and the feel of her breasts against his ribs, Anthony weighed his bleak options. To stay would be unthinkably inappropriate and could end quite poorly indeed. To go would risk waking her, at which point he would have some rather awkward explaining to do.

Taking a deep breath, Anthony eased away from her with infinite care, replacing his body with a pillow as he slid off the couch an inch at a time. The transition was altogether successful and Edith ended up stretched across the sofa, mostly on her back, facing Anthony. He stood, watching her sleep for a moment. He told himself it was to ensure she was, in fact, asleep and comfortable. In truth, it was that she was striking—face relaxed, slightly flushed, lips parted, breathing steady.

Just as he was turning away, her expression suddenly changed. There was a queer little smile twitching at her lips, and her hips bucked slightly once or twice as her head tossed. "Mmm," she muttered, laughing through her nose.

Anthony turned his head to the side, thoroughly amused and equally intrigued. What could have her dreaming so… coquettishly? But then she let out another moan, deep from her throat, and muttered the last word he ever would have expected. "Anthony."

He froze, the metallic pang in his stomach and the tugging in his trousers taking on a new vigor, which he found embarrassing in the extreme.

"Anthony, _please_," she muttered again. And there was no mistaking what Dream Edith was asking Dream Anthony for exactly.

Hurrying to his room, Anthony willed himself to forget the curve of that smirk on her lips, or the way his name sounded in that particular tenor. He'd never heard her call to him in that voice before, and he quite liked it.

Looking down at the intense, delicious ache, Anthony knew he wasn't going to will this away. Not with that image of her hips shifting and the memory of her weight against him so boisterous and fresh on his mind.

With a growl of legitimate irritation, Anthony undressed and stalked off to his bathroom for a shower. Hot or cold he hadn't decided, but he knew he was going to have to get rid of this one way or another. A problem he hadn't had in a very, very long time.

* * *

A/N: My darlings! Your reviews have been so wonderful and generous. The moment I have time I want to respond to each, but in the interim please know how grateful I am and how each new review makes my day!

This is indeed a sort of slow burner, but our Edith and Anthony are fairly stubborn in any century and they're both suffering from a bit of self-doubt as well.

Thank you, always, for continuing to read and comment. Such love. :)

Eleanor


	8. Chapter 8

Edith was sitting at her desk, flipping through some papers but not really reading any of them. It had been a relatively slow day, and even the baby was giving her a reprieve from rolls and kicks. At first it had been rather pleasant, no one thumping against her muscles and ribs, but when more than a couple hours went without so much as a hiccup she began to get nervous. And now, running her hands over her belly as she stared absently at her work, she was bordering on frantic.

"Five more minutes or I'm calling Dr. Clarkson," she warned her tummy under her breath.

Anthony had been gone all day, taking Lavinia to various meetings and things to get her acquainted with some of their associates, and she found she rather missed having him constantly within reach. With Thomas and James on holiday in Capris and Matthew home sick, Edith was feeling a bit lonely, all of her boys away.

And then her pregnant mind traveled from loneliness to fear as she started wandering through all the possibilities of what might be wrong to keep her daughter from her usual activity. The child was always kicking and rolling, and today Edith hadn't felt a single movement since Anthony dropped her at the office. With no one around she trusted, what would she do if something were wrong? Edith began to get a bit panicky, scrambling for her mobile to see what Anthony was up to.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Anthony asked brightly, coming in with two mugs of tea.

Edith's eyes flashed up to him for half a moment, relief and embarrassment rushing through her at once, before the kicking against her was so sudden and furious she flinched, clutching her belly and taking a sharp breath.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked frantically, coming around the desk to stand over her, his hands at her shoulder and her elbow.

Edith laughed lightly, though her tearing eyes did nothing to ease his concern. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just the baby kicking. Feisty little dear that she is."

Anthony sighed and slumped onto her desk, muttering, "Oh, thank god."

Edith looked up at him. "You know, worrying like this can't be good for your heart, Anthony. Stop assuming the worst." Even as the words were coming out she knew she should take her own advice.

"Yes, I know," he said, and another series of kicks battered her tummy. Edith smiled.

"Did you need me, Boss? Or were you just bringing me tea?" she asked, both their worries temporarily abated.

"Oh," he said, reaching across her desk for the two mugs. "Just the tea. And I was wondering what you had in mind for dinner."

"Chicken marsala? Please?"

"I think that can be managed," he answered, standing again. "And you," he said more authoritatively, pointing at her stomach, "You be good to your mother."

The baby kicked again.

A half-hour later, Edith conducted a little experiment. "Daisy?" she called. "Could you be a love and come in here for a minute?"

"What's up?" Daisy chirped, standing at Edith's doorway.

"Have you gotten the supplementals from Gregson yet?" Edith asked, knowing very well they hadn't come in.

"No, the lazy sod. He keeps saying he's going to send them 'tomorrow' and then I never hear from him. And he calls me 'Honey' which is just as degrading as it is nauseating. I guess he's not altogether unattractive, but something about him just isn't right, like his mam stitched him together wrong or something."

Edith half-listened to the expected rant, holding her hands to her belly, pressing on different spots. Nothing at all, not one little bump.

"Sorry, Dais," Edith said. "Keep on him, will you?"

"What else would I do?" she asked with a little pert.

"Hey, will you send Anthony in for me?"

"'Course," she answered, stalking off.

Five minutes later Anthony popped in. "Yes, Miss Crawley? Sorry to have kept you waiting. I was on the phone."

Sure enough, the baby went crazy, both feet, perhaps even a fist. Edith laughed out loud, causing Anthony to frown.

"What is it?" he asked.

Edith stood and gestured for Anthony to come over. "I think you've a right to feel this," she said, pulling his hands to the firm protrusion of her belly.

Anthony frowned. "What is it I'm supposed to be feeling?"

No sooner had he asked then the baby started in and Anthony's eyes grew wide. He stooped, leaning closer to her tummy as if he might hear it, and closer to Edith's face in the process.

"Good lord, that's remarkable," he nearly gasped. He'd felt the baby enough times before, but he always seemed astonished by it. "Can't feel good though," he noted humorously.

"It doesn't hurt," Edith muttered, noting how large and strong Anthony's hands looked beneath hers, how warm they felt through the thin fabric of her cotton dress.

"Does she do that often?"

"Not all the time, but regularly," she said. Debating what sort of reaction it would garner, she chewed her lip a moment before deciding to tell him the truth. "She kicks especially hard when you talk."

Anthony looked thoroughly surprised before he smiled, broadly and boyishly at the belly. He may have even blushed a bit. "Probably just something about the pitch of my voice," he mumbled dismissively.

"Maybe," Edith hedged. "Maybe it's something genetic."

Anthony looked up expectantly, and another of those thunderous silences fell between them.

And then his hands slipped away. "Chicken marsala?" he confirmed quietly.

"And pistachio ice cream, please."

"Anything you want," he whispered. "You only have to tell me what you want."

"Oy, is the baby kicking?" Daisy asked, all dimples and complete, unwitting glee.

"Y-yes," Edith managed, clearing her throat. "Yeah." As Anthony offered half a smile Edith looked down, feeling much less at the sight of Daisy's tiny hands on her. "Actually, I think the baby's done, for now."

"Did you need one of us, Dais?" Anthony asked, sounding to Edith like it wasn't at all what he wished to say.

"Miss Swire asked if you had a minute. She'd like to speak with you in private."

"Why didn't she just come in and ask for herself?" Edith huffed, slightly annoyed. She knew very well the reason Lavinia hadn't come in herself, and it bothered Edith to no end. Several months on the job, Lavinia had adjusted quite well, but she was inexplicably terrified of Edith.

"I'm sure it's no matter," Anthony said, forever trying to keep the peace. "I'll be with her in a moment, Daisy. Thank you."

Daisy dropped her hands from Edith's belly, huffing slightly at the obvious dismissal.

"I, um," Anthony began, then stopped. He frowned suddenly, his expression unreadable, and then turned and left.

Edith shut the door to her office, hoping to consider whatever it was that had just happened, but she didn't have much time. Her mobile rang not five minutes later.

"Hello, Eed," Sybil greeted. "I'm in town for the night. Rosaumnd, Rose and I are inviting ourselves over for dinner. We want to see your flat and rub the belly and Auntie no doubt wants to size-up Anthony. Alright?"

"I'll have to check with Anthony, of course, but I'm sure it's alright. Be over around 7?"

"Perfect, and not to worry, Darling. We don't want you lifting a finger. We're bringing takeout from that little Italian place Auntie's so fond of."

Sybil carried on for another five minutes or so, talking in that quick, no-nonsense, all-information way she had before she said a quick, "Oh! Cab's here. Must run. See you at 7:00," and hung up.

Phone conversations with Sybil always left Edith a little breathless and exhausted, and after a day of worrying and that moment with Anthony, a dinner with her forceful aunt and excitable cousin and sister seemed incredibly daunting.

Edith had feared it would be a very long night and she hadn't been wrong. Anthony was more than accommodating, of course, and her family had shown up with a veritable feast as promised. Dinner was pleasant enough, but Anthony insisted on doing the washing up as the four ladies retired to the living room, and Edith suddenly felt much outnumbered.

"So, are you sleeping together?" Rose asked with that girlish charm that allowed her to get away with such questions.

"What? No!" Edith hissed, annoyed but not at all surprised.

"Right, you're just having a baby together. How silly to presume," Rosamund quipped, sipping at her moscato and arching one eyebrow.

Edith most definitely got her looks from her father's sister. Rosamund had the same strawberry hair, though she dyed it darker, and the same build. Edith hadn't been blessed with her aunt's petite nose, but there had always been a special sort of understanding and companionship between them.

It was the same understanding that told Rosamund without a single word spoken, that right now Edith wanted to kill her.

"Never mind that, tell us about the baby," Sybil said, eager as ever.

Edith rolled her eyes at her aunt and sighed heavily. "Well, she's nice and big and perfectly healthy. We're nearly at twenty-eight weeks, so I'm into the third trimester. Anthony has been a dear and gone to all the silly birthing classes the hospital recommended and," Edith listed, but Sybil cut her off.

"She?" her little sister asked, eyes swimming, "It's a girl?"

"Oh, yes, I thought you knew," Edith said.

"How would I know if you haven't told?" Sybil whispered, placing one hand over Edith's belly. "Oh, a little girl. How wonderful."

"I thought so," Edith said, unable to quell her grin.

"What did Mama say when you told her?" Sybil went on.

Edith frowned in confusion. "Don't you know? I haven't heard from Mama."

"Not this whole time?" Rose gasped, looking frantically at Auntie Ros.

"No, not Mama or Papa, or Mary, or Granny. You three are the only ones besides Matthew who have even acknowledged this was happening," Edith said. She didn't sound bitter, simply resigned.

"Oh, pet, I had no idea," Rosamund said. "Really I didn't."

"But then we don't talk to them much either, apart from holidays," Rose offered, trying to appease.

"We haven't talked about it, but I thought that was just their way. I had no idea they hadn't called you at least," Sybil whispered, looking truly sad.

"It's alright. I expected as much from them. I'm just glad to see you three. Even if it is on a fact-finding mission," Edith teased, squeezing Sybil's hand.

"What about furniture, baby clothes, all that? Are you having a shower?" Rosamund asked, clearly changing the subject.

"No," Edith said, refraining from adding, _A shower is usually thrown for the mother by family, not by the mother for family_. Instead she said, "No, Anthony and I went shopping and picked out the sweetest furniture and things. It's all a cream and brown lambs. It's very sweet. The furniture is walnut, quite classic looking. I fell in love at first sight."

"Where is it?" Rose asked, slyly looking for more information.

"All in boxes in the spare room at the moment, I'm afraid. Haven't really gotten around to setting it up."

"And will you be setting it up here? Or at you flat?" Rosamund asked. "Or haven't you gotten around to deciding that either?"

The three women exchanged obvious glances and Edith nearly growled. "Anthony?" she called, heaving herself to the edge of the sofa. She wasn't moving as easily these days, her belly growing as rapidly as it was.

"What can I do?" Anthony asked, stepping from the kitchen with a dish rag over his shoulder.

"Can you come help me up, please?" she asked, though her expression was pleading for more help than a strong hand.

"Of course," he muttered, rushing over. As he pulled Edith easily to a standing position he said, "You look rather exhausted."

Edith simply nodded.

"Right, hate to be the party-killer, but I think this mum needs her rest. Ladies, I'm afraid I may have to kick you out."

"We'll go of our own accord, no need for force," Rosamund sighed, signaling to Sybil and Rose to follow her. They gathered their things and said their goodbyes.

Finally alone for the first time all day, Edith and Anthony eyed each other for a moment.

"Want to talk about it?" Anthony asked, catching Edith off guard. She must have looked surprised because he gave her a look and said, "I know your family is never easy for you, even when they're on Team Edith."

"There are no teams," she protested, rubbing her lower back. Knowing there was no fooling him, Edith sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "No, I don't want to talk about it. But thank you."

"We should have them over more often," Anthony offered. "I'm rather fond of your Aunt Rosamund, I think."

"We'll see." Edith, feeling particularly indebted to the understanding man before her, kissed Anthony softly on the cheek. "Goodnight, boss. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Edith. Pleasant dreams," Anthony replied. She felt his eyes on her all the way to her room, until she shut the door between them.

It was after three in the morning when light from the hallway flooded Anthony's bed, causing him to wake up in a panic. At first he thought it was going to be another night where Edith joined him for sleep, needing the comfort of another human being, even if it was him.

But then he saw her coat half on over her pajamas, the way her trembling hands cradled her belly, and the expression on her tear-streaked face.

He was out of bed in an instant, not asking questions or hesitating in the least as he slipped on the nearest pair of loafers without socks and took his keys from his nightstand.

"Can you walk?" he confirmed. She nodded, but she was wobbly at best as they moved down the hall. He scooped her up without forethought and she didn't fight him, which worried Anthony more than the fear in her eyes or the feel of her clammy forehead pressed into his neck.

"I'll need to tell the doctors. What happened?"

"Pain, sharp pain, not cramping but pain. And… blood. I changed," she whimpered, losing her breath for a moment, and Anthony could tell she was fighting hysteria. "I changed my pajamas before I woke you."

"I'll take care of you, you'll be fine," Anthony said as he carried her to the garage. He was so certain and calm that Edith didn't question him. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes against the pain and the fear and focused instead on his hands, the strength in his arms, and the sound of his heart against his chest.

The only time Anthony let go of Edith between home and hospital was the ten seconds between placing her in the car and getting in on the other side. Immediately his hand found hers, to remind himself she was there if nothing else. He called ahead so that the nurses were waiting with a stretcher when he pulled up. He stepped out, unwilling to let anyone else lift her to the gurney, and her cold hand clasped around his desperately.

"Park your car and go to the first floor emergency unit, tell the nurse at the desk and she'll tell you where to go," one of the nurses barked, pulling Edith away from him.

Anthony did as he was told, all business and determined to be at her side again as soon as humanly possible. It wasn't until he pulled the car into the hospital garage that he looked down and saw the blood on the passenger seat. He cried then, allowing several hard, choking sobs to wrack him before shaking it off and collecting himself.

He could fall apart after he insured Edith and their daughter was alright, he told himself, and not a moment before.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely feedback! I'm not one to stop at a shameless cliffhanger, but I sort of, well, did. Sorry about that.:) Update coming very soon, I promise.

Thank you again for continuing to read and review!  
Eleanor


	9. Chapter 9

"It could be worse," Anthony said emphatically. "A lot worse."

Edith nodded and was trying to stifle her crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasped, trying not to weep openly, though it was exactly what she was doing.

"No, sweetheart, no," Anthony whispered, sitting on her hospital bed beside her to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Edith took his invitation and threw herself into his chest with an audible thud. "You're allowed to cry, Eed. You've had a long night. Just as long as there are tears of relief mixed in too."

Edith nodded weakly, pressing harder against him as she let her stress and her hormones and her fear all run their course.

Partial placental abruption is what the doctor had said. "Your case is very minor. We're only calling it a Stage 2 because of the bleeding. Mrs. Crawley, your baby is under no duress at all. It was what one might call a false alarm," the doctor had explained. He was a young man, lacking somewhat in patience, and so neither Edith nor Anthony had corrected his mistake. "Your regular doctor will be in to talk to you shortly. Just hang tight."

With that the doctor had left a shaken Edith and Anthony in the semi-privacy of a curtained emergency unit, staring at each other in disbelief. And that's when the tears had started.

Anthony held Edith while she cried it out, and made no attempt to shush her. He was almost jealous that she could sob so violently, knowing eventually it would be over and she would feel that dreamy sort of post-cry exhaustion. His chance would come later, he told himself, when he had Edith home and tucked safely in bed. His bed, if he could manage it.

They must have been like that a while, because by the time Rich Clarkson came in, Edith's crying had faded into sniffles and the occasional hiccup and the late morning sun was coming through the shades over the window. The good doctor had clearly been in bed when he was paged. His hair was a mess and, like Anthony, he wore no socks with his loafers. Anthony almost laughed at the absurdity of such an observation.

"Well, Edith, you gave me a real scare there. Wasn't very nice, doing that to an old heart like mine," Clarkson said warmly, trying to ease the tension. Anthony didn't appreciate the attempt, but Edith at least made an effort to smile. Anthony, still sitting beside her, was rubbing her shoulder protectively.

"Alright, so this sort of thing is fairly common, about one in a hundred pregnant women experience it. It's when the placenta comes away from the uterine wall. The severity can range, and so the consequences can range. From what we can tell, yours was a very minor tear, and while it was alarming, it really wasn't so bad as you would think. The baby isn't in any danger right now at all. She's still getting plenty of oxygen and lots of good blood, okay?"

Edith and Anthony both nodded and, finally daring to look at each other, took a collective sigh.

"That being said," Dr. Clarkson continued, "I don't want to risk another tear. You're done working as of this moment. You're on strict bed rest, no more than an hour on your feet each day, and that includes all trips to the loo and bathing, and no more than five minutes at a time, alright? No walking distances further than ten meters until we're in the clear. Yes?"

"Yes, Doctor," Edith managed, looking down where Anthony's thumb was rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

"I want to be really clear here. This is all precaution, alright? I truly feel we've nothing to fear. I just want to be safe. And I trust that you, Anthony, will keep an eye on our girl here, yes?"

"Of course," Anthony said, embarrassed that his voice cracked a little.

"Very good. In that case I'll give the okay for you to go home. I recommend rest and a big meal. I'll come to check on you in a week assuming there haven't been any changes."

"Thank you," Anthony muttered.

Placing a comforting hand on Edith's foot, Dr. Clarkson smiled warmly. "Be happy, Edith. You're on vacation and you've this gentleman at your beck and call."

Just as he was turning, Dr. Clarkson paused. "Mr. Strallan, would you mind coming with me to fill out some of the discharge paperwork, please?"

"You'll be alright?" Anthony asked Edith before agreeing.

"Yes, of course, I just want to go home," Edith said, looking exhausted from the ordeal.

Anthony pressed a kiss to her hair before following Clarkson.

Once they reached what Anthony presumed was a safe distance from Edith's earshot, Clarkson sighed. "I didn't want to further upset or embarrass her right now, so I'll tell you. Edith needs to take it easy. No intercourse until you get the okay by me, and—" Clarkson stopped at Anthony's face.

"We're not sleeping together," Anthony huffed.

Clarkson did a fair job of hiding his surprise at such a declaration. "I'm sorry, I understood you lived together."

"In separate bedrooms, yes."

Clarkson studied Anthony for a good while, a task made easier by their almost equal heights. Anthony held the man's gaze, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Mr. Strallan," Clarkson finally said with a sigh, "At the risk of sounding terribly dated, pregnancy is a delicate condition. Edith's has just been made more-so by the partial abruption. Whatever you two are playing at, whatever your intentions are, I urge you to proceed with caution. She's scared, she's hormonal, and she's quite vulnerable."

Anthony wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or insulted. "Are you suggesting… I wouldn't hurt her, not for anything… And anyway, our friendship is really none of your," Anthony stammered in a hoarse whisper, trying to convey his anger while not making a scene.

Ever the image of patience and generosity, Dr. Clarkson stopped Anthony short. His voice was gentle but firm. "It is my business, Mr. Strallan, while Edith is my patient. All I ask is that you don't upset her or initiate any change. Try not to upset the status quo right now, please, until she and the baby are in the clear. Yes?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry, Doctor," Anthony breathed, feeling badly for his snappish reaction. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Anthony. You've both been through the ringer tonight. Take her home. Keep her happy." With a firm handshake Dr. Clarkson turned and retreated down the hall.

Anthony did just that. He insisted Edith be set up in his room, because his bed was larger and lower to the ground and closer distance to his bathroom. Those were all the reasons he forced Edith to accept, of course. His real reason for moving Edith to his room was more primal, an instinctual need to protect her and his baby and keep them close at all times.

There was no more pretense. Whatever Edith wanted or didn't want from him, Anthony didn't care at the moment. He was there and he was going to take care of the both of them whether Edith asked or not.

When they first got home, Anthony helped Edith into a mild bath to scrub the hospital off of her while he made her breakfast. He got her settled in his bed with fresh pajamas, a breakfast tray, a pitcher of water, several books, and her mobile.

"I'm fine, Anthony, really. I just want to sleep," Edith insisted when he asked for the third time if she needed anything.

"Very good," he said, watching her thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm going to clean up your room, and call the office. Lavinia's in for a bit of a shock but I think she's ready. You sleep, and yell if you need me, alright?"

"Anthony?" Edith called, stopping him at the door. He turned, ready to do whatever she asked of him. Instead he found her lip trembling and her eyes searching his. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. Looking away she said, her voice clear and steady, "Thank you, for helping me, and the baby. You do too much, but I appreciate it."

_Too much?_ Anthony thought, feeling constantly like he was never doing enough. He stood, feeling stupid, trying to sort a response from the deluge of thoughts and feelings coursing through him. Only Edith had the ability to render him so speechless.

His first inclination was to walk over to her, kneel beside the bed, and kiss her belly to show her how he loved their child. Then he would kiss her too, to show her how he loved her. And then he would wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

But that course of action assumed Edith wanted him, which in all likelihood she did not. And Clarkson had said not to upset her, or the status quo. Now was not the time to give into his foolish ideas, especially if she were to rebuff his advances. Where would that leave her? Alone in a flat with little to no family to help? He wouldn't risk it, for her sake as much as his own cowardice.

"You're welcome," Anthony managed, smiling politely.

His first order of business was to call the office and inform them Edith was taking her leave and that he wouldn't be in for at least a week. He had Daisy gather up some work that couldn't wait and send it to the flat via messenger, and asked that she field any calls for Edith.

With work taken care of, Anthony went about making Edith comfortable. He called a few shops, ordering extra pillows and things, a television for the bedroom, all for same-day delivery. Then he ordered take out from five different restaurants, unsure what she'd be in the mood for and unwilling to bother her with such a question.

With all of that out of the way, Anthony was feeling a bit more relaxed and in control. He checked in on Edith, happy to find that she had dozed off. Then he went about the one chore he had been most dreading.

Opening the door to Edith's room, Anthony was weary. She had said that she changed before waking him, and he had seen the blood in his car. Nothing could have prepared him, though.

It wasn't so very gruesome, the blood on her sheets, long-since dried, and her ruined pajamas in a heap by her bed. No, it wasn't that there was a great deal of blood, only that it was hers, and that she had been alone when it happened, and it terrified him.

Anthony stripped the bed, gathered her clothes, wadded it all together and threw it in a garbage bag. Moving into her bathroom, he found a trail of dried blood and a towel she must have used to clean it from her legs. He threw that away as well, along with the rag he used to wipe up the floor.

Then, alone in the silence of her bathroom, all evidence of what he nearly lost having been removed, Anthony sat on the edge of Edith's tub and cried.

He didn't just let tears fall, he _really_ cried like he hadn't done since he was a boy. He cried so hard that it made no noise at all. He cried for the child he so desperately felt was his. He cried for the pain he had seen in Edith's face, and for the fear. He cried at the idea of losing either one of them, and he cried in relief that he hadn't. And then, finally, he cried because they weren't really his at all.

If he needed affirmation, this night had been it. Anthony loved Edith. Loved her with everything he had and everything he was. He had always loved her. He loved her before he met her.

But Edith had made it clear. She wanted a baby, not a family. There had been times, sure, when he thought she would ask him for more, but they always passed. Afterwards he would rationalize them, remind himself that she is young and pregnant and that she trusted him to be a good friend and little more.

Anthony wasn't sure how long he sat there, falling apart in a way he never had before. When he finally regained his composure and left the bathroom, it was late in the afternoon. He opened the door to his room to find Edith awake, sitting up against the pillows looking refreshed and content.

"What are you doing?" Anthony asked as he came into the room. She had headphones in, looking very focused and staring at the floor.

"I'm making a birthing playlist."

"Of course," he said sarcastically. "Should've guessed."

"Well you know how I love music. They said in the baby class I should find something to focus on during labor, so I thought I'd make a playlist of songs with the right tone, and use that as my focus."

"A sort of soundtrack to your labor, eh? I like it." Anthony smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What have you got so far?"

"I haven't, really. I'm trying to decide whether to go classical, oldies, or contemporary. Rock, or folk, all that. You know I'm rotten at making decisions."

Anthony watched for a moment, unable to stop from smiling, while an oblivious Edith bobbed her head slightly at whatever was playing. It felt right and normal, and utterly amazing in contrast with the traumatic events of the last twelve hours.

"This one might be good," Edith said brightly, handing Anthony one of the earbuds. "What do you think?"

"Simon and Garfunkel, eh?" Anthony asked, familiar with the opening claps of _Cecelia_.

Edith shrugged and smiled. "Why not?"

"I like it," he agreed, enjoying the proximity between them that sharing headphones required. He turned, lying back on the pillows beside her and closed his eyes. Edith settled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as she took him through her potential birthing songs.

There, Edith and daughter beside him, body totally spent from the night and his cry, Anthony fell asleep before he knew it was happening, and didn't wake up much later to a laughing Edith and five different deliverymen at his door.

* * *

A/N: I told you I wouldn't leave it hanging for too long. :) Thank you! for the lovely reviews. They do make my day. I'm glad for and very much appreciate your following me on this one.

And poor Anthony might find some courage here soon, we'll see. Clarkson scared him into silence a bit, though, I'm afraid. But with Edith on bed rest for the time being, things are going to get interesting.

Thanks again, lovely readers!  
Eleanor


	10. Chapter 10

Edith Crawley would have done anything for her daughter, walked through fire and glass—all the superlative clichés. Weeks of bed rest seemed a comparatively small sacrifice in order to ensure the safety and health of her child. Even for Edith, a habitually busy person, and even as summer caused the days to grow warm and golden and beautiful.

Logically, Edith knew it could be much worse, and she was glad for Anthony's nearly constant company and care as one week became two and then three. But she still had her moments she just couldn't help but feel she might go mad with boredom.

"I can only do so many of these damn things," Edith growled, throwing another completed book of crosswords at Anthony, who was going over some work leaning against the foot of the bed.

He smiled up at her, bemused more than anything. "Care to try your hand at Sudoku?"

"Anthony!" Edith growled. "I've been cooped up in here for almost a month. Please, please," she pleaded, "You know what I want. Just for a while, please?"

"Dr. Clarkson said you're supposed to be _resting_. What you're asking doesn't equate rest."

"I need it, Anthony," Edith implored, "I'll go mad without it."

"You're already mad," he muttered, turning back to the papers in his hand.

Without warning Edith lunged across the bed, snatching the manuscript from his hands. "I need to work!"

Anthony looked amused, which annoyed her even more. "A woman as pregnant as you has no business moving that fast," Anthony said, reaching his long arms across the bed to take the manuscript back. "And no work. Doctor's orders."

"Oh, you are so…" Edith huffed, struggling for a word that wasn't _adorable_ or _sweet_ or _maddeningly sexy_.

Anthony looked up at her, a smile playing on his lips.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused.

They studied each other for a good while. The bed was made, but messily. Books and papers were strewn about. Edith was in a pair of leggings and one of Anthony's button-up shirts, her new favorite outfit, and Anthony was in trousers and a white shirt with no tie and the sleeves rolled.

He had barely left Edith's side since Dr. Clarkson's initial visit ordering she stay in bed, and neither of them minded. The first couple nights after the hospital she'd felt no shame in asking him to stay with her while she slept, but on the third night he moved to the other bed and he'd been in there ever since, and Edith's pride wouldn't allow her to ask why.

During the day he'd work while she read or watched tv. They'd nap together, he'd help her to and from the bathroom, though she adamantly swore she didn't need it.

It had been nice, overall, and Edith was sure she'd never tire of his company. Only she was so used to working in tandem with him, she couldn't stand feeling idle while she watched him markup stories and answer emails.

After a slow, audible breath, Anthony tossed his papers to the floor and folded his hands casually in his lap. "I'm enjoying being at home. I'm enjoying taking care of you. I'm not enjoying that you need bed rest, or that you're bored," he listed. Then with his lopsided grin and a shrug he added, "And a little bit I'm enjoying annoying you, and being the boss for once."

Edith growled, though she couldn't hide her grin, and threw a pillow at him.

"I can't do _nothing_ for the next two months, Anthony. I really will go mad," she complained.

"Well, Dr. Clarkson did say he may reduce your sentence if everything is looking good at your next appointment. Perhaps next week he'll say you can be a bit more mobile."

"I hate it when you're reasonable," she grumbled in a valiant effort to stay irrationally mad at him.

"I know, old girl," he said softly, something warm and affectionate in his expression.

Another of their silences fell between them, and this time, Edith wasn't keen to break it. Their daughter seemed to have other plans, though. "Oomph," Edith huffed, feeling a rather strong foot. "She's trying to separate my ribs, I think."

Anthony grew a silly little grin as he stretched across the bed to get closer, sliding a hand over Edith's stomach. "She's strong, I've no doubt about that."

"Stop talking, you'll only make her kick harder," Edith demanded, failing to sound severe or remotely stern.

"That's my girl," Anthony chuckled to the belly, moving his hand and applying a gentle pressure to let his daughter know he was there. Then all at once his words sank in, and his eyes snapped to Edith's in a panic. "Sorry, I just… it slipped," he muttered.

Edith was about to reply when Anthony's mobile sounded. Checking the screen he muttered, "Sorry, it's Lavinia," and hurried out of the room.

Edith felt on the verge of tears suddenly. She knew it was completely ridiculous, but she couldn't stop herself. Lavinia called all the time, and while Anthony was willing to ignore almost everyone except Daisy, he always took Lavinia's calls. And he always took them in another room. Edith told herself it was because he was so adamant she not worry about work, and that Lavinia had taken on a lot and probably relied on Anthony's advice.

More importantly, Edith reminded herself, Anthony was not hers to claim. He could talk to anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he certainly didn't owe Edith an explanation for it.

The weeks of bed rest proved something to Edith she had long expected. Anthony's care and attention was constant, his patience unwavering. He was at Edith's side almost every hour, and when he absolutely couldn't avoid a trip to the office, he called in reinforcements in the form of Rose or Aunt Ros. Anthony cooked meals, painted toes, rubbed feet, did laundry, ran baths, and anything else Edith's swollen, pregnant body required.

As if she wasn't sure before, all of it reminded Edith that Anthony was far, far better than she could hope to deserve. He was infinitely too good for a woman like herself, and she knew it.

With Anthony in the other room, Edith burrowed into her pillows and allowed herself to cry softly until she drifted off to sleep.

Edith's next checkup found her at 33 weeks, almost full-term, and quite anxious to get the okay from Dr. Clarkson. Anthony, who had always been so nervous at the appointments, had taken on the role of the calm, sturdy one so that Edith felt free to fret as much as she liked. It was a shift in their usual roles, but one they both enjoyed, and that Dr. Clarkson noticed immediately.

"Oh, she's doing just lovely," Dr. Clarkson assured, moving the camera around Edith's large belly. "Amniotic fluids are plenty, Baby's in good position, and quite active I see."

"Yeah, it's lovely," Edith groused.

After going over a few questions and checking Edith's blood pressure, Clarkson began wiping Edith's belly. "Alright, Edith, I think we're in the clear. I still want you to take it easy. You're not to go back to work, no walking long distances, no heavy lifting. Keep your feet up as much as possible. Lots of naps."

"You'll make me lazy," Edith joked, half-complaining. She didn't like being inactive.

"Well you'll have plenty of time to be exhausted, running around and on your feet all day, when the little one comes, alright?"

Edith nodded, agreed to make an appointment for the following week, and wished Clarkson a good day as Anthony helped her from the table.

"So, shall we call it 'modified bed rest'?" Anthony asked when they got back into the flat.

"If you think that'll appease me, you're wrong."

"It's for the baby," Anthony reasoned.

"I know," Edith conceded, sinking onto the sofa. "She's lucky she's so loved."

"Indeed," Anthony said. Edith looked at him curiously, wondering why he seemed so sad suddenly, and ignoring the hope that bubbled up in her chest. Surely, _surely_, if Anthony intended on…more, he would have said something by now?

She wouldn't press him, using her situation to her advantage felt wrong and unscrupulous. Anthony was such a good soul, so kind and generous, she knew that he'd give her anything she asked for, even if it was marriage. But she seriously doubted whether such an arrangement would make him happy, and with her emotions going haywire, she was in no place to sort it out.

Every time Edith would wander such a line of thought she'd find herself nearly crying and markedly upset, and reminding herself of John and Margery Drake, and that she was getting precisely what she had earned.

Still, while the threat of early labor or other complications had been the cause, Edith's bed rest led to a sort of domestic bliss she and Anthony hadn't expected. They did well together, Edith and Anthony, in whatever capacity. Rose became quite fond of him as well, dubbing him "Uncle Anthony" with her youthful charm, and even the wonderfully catty Auntie Ros couldn't complain about him.

Thomas and Jimmy, too, became regulars in Anthony's flat. One night in particular, Edith woke and was delighted to find Jimmy, Thomas, and Anthony all asleep around her, the film they'd been watching long over. Anthony's hand was draped protectively over her knee, and Thomas was curled against her other side, holding her arm. That Anthony was just as fond of 'the Boys' as she was tickled her pink, and she drifted off, content with her little makeshift family.

The tension was there, always, and continued to build. That throbbing, thunderous thing between them neither was willing to address. Edith feared it came from Anthony's obligation, and Anthony feared it came from his obvious unrequited affection. And both of them were too proud or scared to address it, so they carried on, happily embracing the ignorance-is-bliss life.

Anthony, for his part, was just glad to be needed. He had naturally become attune to everything Edith. Where she was in the house, her mood, any sounds she made. He had become an expert at predicting her needs, anticipating any craving or ache, and generally being on guard at all times.

As such, despite being in the process of brushing his teeth, he heard a sharp gasp followed by a low "oomph" and hurried down the hall.

"Edith?" he asked, his tone revealing only a small fraction of the concern that clutched his lungs. Edith was at the side of the bed, fists buried in the bedding as she braced herself. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," she breathed, closing her eyes as one hand traveled to her back. She was crouched down by her bed, reaching for a weathered paperback.

"Careful. You get down there in your state, we may never get you back up," he teased, acknowledging that Edith's tummy had grown larger now that she was at eight months. In the July heat, she took to wearing little else than thin cotton bottoms and camisoles, stretched tight over her stomach. She was lovely, in his opinion, which he kept to himself.

Edith looked over her shoulder and laughed as Anthony came to help lift her.

She straightened cautiously. "I just, I was bending over to pick up my book and Baby kicked and it sort of," she winced, rubbing at her muscles.

"Your back?" Anthony asked, admittedly relieved it wasn't something more serious.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded.

"Alright, come on," he said, urging her to climb onto the bed.

"What are you going to do?" Edith asked, causing Anthony to laugh once through his nose.

"Something awful and tortuous, of course. What else would you expect?" he teased in his usual, patient tone. Using his hands, Anthony directed Edith to kneel on the bed, pushing her to face the headboard. "Here, hold on to the bed," he said quietly, sitting behind her.

"Mmm," Edith sighed. She couldn't help herself. In that position her muscles were stretched without the weight of the baby on them too much, and Anthony began to knead her back gently and slowly.

"You should let me do this more often, Eed. Your back is full of knots," he murmured while he worked.

"I wouldn't say no to regular back rubs," she half-laughed, rolling her shoulders as Anthony soothed each new spot. "Oh, Anthony, thank you."

They were silent for a while, Anthony enjoying the excuse to touch her freely. "Do you, do you mind if I just?" he stuttered, leaving the bed for a moment. Edith gave a petulant little huff until he took her lavender lotion from the bedside table and sat back down. "May I?" he asked, warming some lotion in his hands.

"Please do."

Anthony flipped up her navy camisole, exposing the creamy bare skin of her lower back. She was warm, and remarkably soft, and he was fascinated by every inch. The freckle above her right hip, the ridge of her spine, the way her pliant flesh felt beneath his hands. When he traveled around her sides he could feel the difference between her soft muscle and the firm protrusion of their child. _Her_ child, he corrected himself.

"What's wrong?" she asked, apparently sensing the tension that suddenly gripped at him.

"Nothing at all," Anthony answered, forcing himself to smile as she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Why do you look sad? I keep catching you looking sad, and you always deny it," she said. Her voice was quiet and dulled, as if she were talking in her sleep. If Anthony didn't know far better he would think she was stoned.

"I'm never sad around you," he allowed. Talking to Edith about this, like this, it was like an alcoholic sniffing a fine scotch. It was fine, to an extent, but dangerous. Anthony felt himself teetering on an edge, wanting to jump as much as he dreaded it.

"I don't agree," she said matter-of-factly. "I, well I can feel it to be honest. Is it… is it me? Do you want me to go? Because Anthony, I would," she began. But he cut her off.

"Edith, that's the last thing in the world I want. You can stay here as long as you like. It's your home now too."

Edith looked down, releasing her hold on the bed frame to cup her belly. "We'll be a terrible nuisance," she said, making a little joke.

Anthony's pursuit of her aching back gave way to his wish to comfort her. Slowly, and oh so tentatively, he allowed his hands to travel around, slipping under her camisole to the bare skin of her belly, under her hands. She didn't move, which he quite expected, but instead pressed her fingers between his through the thin fabric of her top.

So warm, everything, every touch between the two of them—the three of them, really—it was so…warm. Nice, lovely, pleasant, besotting—a thousand words flooded his brain at once, and then all went silent as Edith sat back, into Anthony's chest, and laid her head against his neck.

For a long minute Anthony allowed his eyes to close, allowed himself to memorize the smell of her, the weight of Edith leaning into him, the feel of her temple against his chin, of her hands slowly caressing his, of their child, _their_ child, between them, as if everything was well and right and good. And then it passed.

It wasn't real, and she wasn't his, and this—whatever was happening—was a result of her being alone and pregnant and vulnerable.

With a great deal of effort and a throbbing ache in his heart, Anthony slipped his arms away from Edith Crawley's small frame.

"Won't you stay tonight?" she asked, looking at him with those eyes that made him want to cry.

"No, Edith, I don't think I will. Early start for me tomorrow and you need your rest."

"Early start?"

"Meeting with Miss Swire before a pitch at 9."

Edith nodded, a gesture so infinitesimal he might not have seen it on anyone else. "Alright then, good luck. Enjoy your day."

"I'll be home with dinner by six. Rose will be over in the morning to keep you company. Anything you should need in the interim, just call."

"Yes, I know the drill, boss," she said with a sad and disappointed smile.

Anthony lingered awkwardly beside her bed as she pulled the covers around her legs. He was fidgeting, his brain telling him to go as his entire body ached to climb in beside her. They had done it enough times before, slept together, and it was always innocent enough.

But no. The frame of mind he was in at this point, it would be wildly unwise for him to allow any inch of Edith to press against his body.

"Goodnight, Edith. Pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, Anthony," she said, her voice sounding distant and a little inhuman as she rolled to her side and propped several pillows beneath her belly.

The hand that turned out her light as he left was shaking, and Anthony didn't bother rationalizing that to himself.


	11. Chapter 11

At thirty-eight weeks, Edith couldn't help but feel a little heartbroken she hadn't received a single visit from her parents. She had gotten the occasional phone call from Cora, and Edith suspected it was Robert who kept her mother from visiting in earnest, but that didn't help. She wanted to be worthy of a fight between them, if that's what it took for her mother to come see her.

The baby was healthy, though, and Edith could hardly ask for much more than that. And she did have Rose, Rosamund, Thomas and Jimmy, and regular phone calls from Sybil. Edith suspected her baby sister supplied Cora with updates, but tried not to waste much time wondering how much her mother may or may not worry about her.

"You, my darling girl, will never have to wonder if I love you," Edith said to her belly, running her hands over her tummy as she sat cross-legged in the center of her bed. She had her i-Pod on playing a mix of calming music she wanted her daughter to know. "You are going to be good, and strong, and I'm going to remind you every day how important you are, and how special you are."

Baby kicked back and Edith grinned. "I'm here, my sweet love. What are we going to name you, hmm?" She flipped open the baby names book Anthony had brought home for her and began perusing as she hummed along with Cat Stevens and Simon & Garfunkel.

While Edith was now full-term and allowed to move about as much as she wanted, she generally felt too large and uncomfortable to enjoy her reestablished freedom. Anthony was a dear and worked hard to keep her relaxed, and Edith tried not to harp too much on her discomfort—she had wanted a baby so badly, and she was beyond thrilled to be having one. She was less thrilled with her swollen feet, aching back, the constant need to use the loo, heartburn that radiated from her chest to her knees, and the emotional rollercoaster she'd been riding for months.

Even with all that, Edith was sure she'd never been happier.

"Eed, sweetheart, I have a surprise for you," Anthony called, knocking lightly on her bedroom door before entering.

They still hadn't switched rooms again, so Edith was in Anthony's master suite, and Anthony was in her much more feminine room down the hall. The third bedroom had been painted a lovely, warm taupe and the baby furniture was in boxes on the floor. It seemed a rather large step to actually set it all up, and while both Edith and Anthony were fond of the idea, neither had the nerve to actually say it.

Like so much of what their lives had become, Edith and Anthony both smiled and carried on with the day-to-day, taking what they could and pretending not to be terrified of what could happen next.

"A surprise?" Edith asked, pushing herself up against the headboard with a wary smile.

"We have the IPoL conference coming up, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to be at the office quite a bit over the next week, so I called in reinforcements," he explained.

"Anthony, I'm not strictly on bed rest anymore, I don't need a babysitter," Edith said.

In reply, Anthony just let the bedroom door swing wide, revealing a giddy Sybil.

"Sister!" Sybil squealed, running and throwing herself onto the bed. Edith laughed at her sister's enthusiasm, looking at Anthony in gratitude as Sybil hugged her.

"I trust you two will stay out of trouble while I'm gone today?" Anthony asked, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"Yes, Boss," Edith assured.

"Excellent. I'm picking up Rose on my way home from work tonight, we'll be back for dinner around six. Yes?"

"Thank you, Sir Anthony," Sybil called after him, giggling at the audible groan from the hall in response. "He does hate that title, doesn't he?"

Edith was still staring at her sister in disbelief. "I'm so glad you're here. How long do I get to keep you?"

"A whole week. Anthony arranged it all you know, and even paid for my train ticket. Said he knew he'd be away and didn't want you alone so close to your due date, said you've been missing your family too even though you won't admit it. And Tom's in Dublin right now, some month-long business venture with his brother. I don't really like it, but he says when he gets back we'll have enough to get a little place of our own somewhere off of Papa's property. And Mary says hello. I think she and Matthew are having problems but you know her, she'd never say if she did. Oh!"

"Sybil, for god's sake, take a breath," Edith laughed, her head spinning with Sybil's deluge of information. Sybil ignored her as she rummaged through one of her many bags, now spread among the bed.

"Mama sends her love. I think she wants to see you and while she won't ever admit if anything is remotely wrong, Papa has been particularly nice to her, which makes me think she's angry with him. I don't know."

Edith worked to remain expressionless. She had been sparring with her parents since she was four years old, but it had been her own actions that caused the final break. She had long felt the best response to avoid heartache and frustration and blame was to remain neutral in front of her sisters.

Apparently finding what she hunted, Sybil let out an "ah-ha!" and turned back to Edith, a bundle in her hands. "This is for the baby," she explained, throwing her arms to spread the blanket between them.

It was knit, obviously by hand, in a soft, light cotton yarn. The pattern was random-width stripes of pale taupe, a sort of mauve, light brown, and cream, and there was an occasional gold ribbon laced through. "Oh, Syb, it's really beautiful," Edith gasped, fingering the threaded ribbon. "Really, really beautiful. It's just perfect."

"Mama made it," Sybil said softly, her great blue eyes watching for Edith's reaction.

For her part, Edith just closed her eyes, and smiled. "I didn't think she cared."

"She does. A lot. She just doesn't want to step on your toes or push herself on you. But she makes me tell her in detail every day all of what you've told me. Rather annoying, actually."

"Well she could call more if she liked."

"Goes both ways, Eed," Sybil prodded, placing a hand on Edith's shoulder. They were quiet for a while until Sybil returned to her usual, exuberant self. "Well! Enough, I don't want to waste a minute. I have all sorts of things to entertain us." She started emptying her bags.

"You're only here for a week, Sybil, you're not moving in."

Sybil smiled devilishly. "Yeah, but what a week it will be."

It was a good week, too. Edith and Sybil would go for walks and talk and shop online for the baby. They spent an obscene amount of time in bed, being lazy, and every night Anthony would come home and cook them dinner and the three of them would chatter until Edith couldn't keep her eyes open. It was rather blissful, and Edith was a little sad when it came to Sybil's last night.

Edith and Sybil were lying in bed, watching old movies on the television Anthony had put in the room. Magazines and crosswords were spread around them, along with a fair amount of junk food, bottles of nail polish, and some knitting Sybil was attempting.

"What about Catherine?" Sybil suggested, flipping through the entertainment magazines. "Catherine's a good name."

"Yes, but not for this one. It needs to be something really sweet. I can tell she's a fighter, but I want her to be kind and gentle, like," Edith stopped herself short.

"Like her father?" Sybil asked, risking a glance up as she counted her knits.

Edith was quite for a moment, thinking, then took the knitting from Sybil's hands and laid her head in her sister's lap.

"Thank you for coming to keep me company," Edith sighed as Sybil stroked her hair maternally. "Anthony's been so good. Poor man worries like nothing I've ever seen, and he just hates going into work right now, I know. Usually it's Rose or Auntie Ros he has come sit with me, but I'm glad you're here. I miss you."

"I miss you too, sister," Sybil said. "Tom's been looking for jobs over here, though. I'm rather feeling the need to get away from Mama and Papa's place. I know Tom wouldn't mind being outside their focus for a while."

"I'm glad you're making plans together. That's good."

"Speaking of," Sybil said tentatively, leaning over so she could examine Edith's expression. "What are your plans?"

"For what?"

"Well, I don't mean to cause any stress, but what are you going to do when the baby comes? I mean, are you going to stay here after she's born? And if so, for how long?"

"I, well we hadn't really talked specifics," Edith mumbled, frowning.

"And what about Anthony? Will he be 'Father' or 'Uncle Anthony' or just some bloke Mummy works with?"

"I suppose that's up to him, really. I'd hate to pressure him one way or another. He's done so much for me already."

"And I suppose the baby will have your last name then? And what about the nursery? You have all that baby furniture in boxes and crates. You have to set it up at some point. Will you do it here or at your flat?"

"I don't know," Edith fairly barked, sitting up with some effort.

"You haven't talked about it at all?"

Edith felt a wave of something strange and sad and panicky wash over her. "Well, no, we haven't. I mean, Anthony said I could stay as long as I wanted, but we hadn't gone much further than that. I suppose we were putting off those conversations. I mean, it's been so good, you know, so comfortable that we've sort of just been going with it."

"Well putting off the inevitable won't make it less inevitable, will it? And you've an expiration date on this one that's fast approaching," Sybil said, running a hand on Edith's stomach.

Edith sputtered a few words before Sybil interrupted her. "I'm not criticizing you, and I'm not trying to cause problems," she explained gently, taking Edith's hand in hers. "It's just, I've never seen you so happy and content, and I know very well it's not just because of the baby."

Edith's face colored, she knew, and her heart sank into her stomach. She couldn't take a breath. The one thing she'd managed to avoid all this time and here Sybil was about to lay it out in front of her.

"Anyone who's around you two can see how mad you are for each other. I don't know why you're both so afraid to admit it."

"We're just friends," Edith said. She had intended to be dismissive, emphatic even, but her voice was trembling so pathetically that she didn't even believe herself.

"Friends," Sybil confirmed, "Who live together, and know everything about one another, and spend practically every waking moment together, and who happen to be having a baby together." When Edith said nothing, Sybil dropped her voice and said gently, "What are you so afraid of?"

Edith was determined to argue with her sister, but she had spent so long arguing with herself that she was suddenly all out of fight. She'd reached her limit in denial. Edith dropped her head into her hands. "Oh god, Sybil," she whispered. "I love him."

"I know," Sybil said, rubbing Edith's back.

Tears streamed down Edith's face as she gave into her nurturing and persistent sister. "I love him so much. I think I always have. I just don't know that he feels the same way. He's so reserved and kind, I'm terrified I'm just taking advantage of his goodness. And I can't tell him now, after all this," she said, gesturing to her stomach. "What if he thinks it was just a sort of ploy? I mean that's what it looks like, isn't it? That I did this to make him feel obligated? And he keeps offering to help but I know he's just doing what he thinks is right. And in all this time he's never once," Edith trailed off. "You know."

"What?" Sybil asked with a knowing little laugh. "Tried making a move on his emotional, pregnant employee half his age? Anthony's a terribly decent man."

"Almost to a fault," Edith blubbered.

"Exactly. Of course he hasn't said anything. He doesn't want to push you. Edith, you two are in about the strangest situation I've ever heard of. You can't expect someone as shy and prone to worry as him to just lay it all out, can you?"

Edith shrugged, knowing Sybil was right, and wiped the tears from her face. After a moment she let out a little growl of frustration. "How did I get it so wrong, so backwards?"

"Look, darling, the doctors didn't give you much of a choice, did they? Anyway, who's to say what the proper order is, hmm?"

"I know he's far too good for me, and I don't think I've any right to ask him for more than he's already given me, you know?"

"Edith," Sybil said firmly, "Stop that nonsense. Here's what we're going to do."

"What?" Edith asked warily, trying to believe in her sister and ignore the piercing fear in the pit of her stomach.

"You're going to take a long soak in the tub while I clean up in here. Then you're going to do your hair and makeup, and we're going to make a beautiful meal together, and when Anthony gets home I'll have made myself scarce. Then you're going to sit him down and tell him exactly how you feel."

"What? No!" Edith said, nearly laughing at the absurdity. "Haven't you been listening? I can't tell him now, it wouldn't be right. I don't want him to say yes just because of the baby."

"You know Anthony better than anyone. Is he the type to make rash decisions for the wrong reasons?"

Edith opened her mouth before realizing she really didn't have an answer to that one.

"I didn't think so. Now. Go get in the tub, relax. It'll all be perfect."

And it really, really was. Sybil, the dear, cleaned up the room, turned down the fresh linens, and put a vase of fresh amaryllis on the window seat that made the room smell amazing. In the kitchen she had worked wonders with a simple roast and potatoes and had a lemon tart chilling in the fridge. The dining room she had set, with candles and chargers and linen napkins.

Edith stood, holding her sister's arm, gaping. "You…Sybil, really, you are a miracle worker. It's perfect."

"You look beautiful, sister," Sybil said. Edith didn't feel exceptionally attractive at the moment, her navy maternity dress, just a simple cotton thing, was stretched over her protruding belly and she was barefoot.

"I feel huge. And very plain. But you're sweet. Anthony's seen me look worse."

"Are you ready?"

"I think I am, yes," Edith said, hoping that if she could convince Sybil she could convince herself.

"Alright. Dinner's in the oven. Pull it out in twenty and let it rest before serving. I'm off to meet my train," Sybil rambled, gathering her things and heading for the door. "Let me know how it goes."

"I will."

"And Edith?"

"Hmm?"

"You do deserve this. All of it. Don't forget that."

With that Sybil was gone, leaving Edith to wrestle with her own panic while she waited for Anthony to get home from work.

* * *

A/N: I know I've said it before, but I mean it every time. Thank you. You are just too lovely, and I really can't tell you what your support means. This story is just a bit of fun, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Thank you so, so much! Your reviews are always greatly appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

When Sybil first left, Edith was rather worked up with adrenaline and anticipation. She was ready, she was certain. Her certitude failed her, however, as the hours dragged on. It was unlike Anthony to be late anywhere, let alone home. In fact, he was very, very on time everywhere he went. Always. It was also unlike Anthony not to call, and not to answer when Edith called him.

Sitting at the dining room table, staring at the candles that had long-since burned out and a cold, dry roast, she resisted the urge to pick up her phone again. She wouldn't nag. She'd tried the office and his mobile, and left messages at both. He would call as soon as they were received, she was sure.

Finally giving up on the small bit of grandeur she and Sybil had planned, Edith changed into her favorite pajamas and began packing away the food. Wherever he was, when Anthony got home he would likely be hungry, so Edith made up a plate to set aside.

"Not to worry, my love, I'm sure he's fine and will be back soon," Edith said, patting her tummy gently as she put away the chargers and table linens. "He'll still say goodnight to you per usual."

Coming up with another plan, Edith put in a movie that always reminded her of Anthony, and decided they could curl up and watch it together, and she would tell him when the time was right.

It wasn't until the clock struck ten she began to truly worry about his wellbeing. Just as she was ready to call around, Anthony came through the door. He clearly wasn't expecting her to be awake because he was moving slowly and trying his best to remain silent. So much so that he nearly jumped from his skin when Edith said his name.

"Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that," Anthony chided in good humor, laughing as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Anthony, I'm nine months pregnant. I couldn't sneak anywhere if I wanted to."

"I didn't think you'd be up, everything alright?"

"I should ask the same thing," Edith teased, relieved that he was home and perfectly alright, and immensely glad to see him.

Anthony looked remorseful. "I know, I'm sorry. I got caught up after work, and I dropped my mobile in the bathroom sink and it appears to be completely dead."

"It's no matter. Are you hungry?" Edith asked, excited to show him that she had cooked.

"No, thank you, I'm stuffed," Anthony answered, distractedly sorting through the post while he pulled his tie loose.

"Oh, you ate," Edith muttered, trying to maintain her happy, hopeful spirit and fight the disappointment that was threatening. "Did you grab something at the office?"

"No, Lavinia and I ended up having dinner. I had an exorbitant amount of pasta."

"Lavinia?" Edith asked, her blood turning cold.

"Yes, we were stuck late at the office and had some things to go over."

"Awfully vague," Edith said, trying to sound light and indifferent.

Anthony just made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. Looking back to Edith he said, "Well, it's fairly late."

"I have a movie all queued up. Care to watch it?" Edith asked, almost desperate now to salvage her intended evening.

Anthony looked at her for a moment, and she was certain he would say no. She could tell he was tired, and she knew he would have another early day tomorrow. But to her immense satisfaction, he said, "Yes, sounds lovely."

Edith beamed, too happy to feel ashamed at being so easily pleased with his company. "Oh, good. Well why don't you get comfortable and I'll make some popcorn, and we'll be all set."

"Very good," Anthony answered as he made his way to his room to change.

Anthony came back shortly wearing his blue pajama pants and a cotton granddad shirt, both of which Edith had given him. She loved being one of possibly two people in the world who had ever seen him so dressed down.

"Sit down and relax," Edith instructed, turning the television on and joining him on the couch. He dropped his head back and sighed.

"What did Lavinia need help with that kept you so late? You've been working too hard."

"Oh, it wasn't work related," Anthony said quickly, rubbing the fatigue from his face.

"Oh?"

"No, but it's no matter," Anthony said dismissively, unwittingly stoking the worry and hurt in Edith that was causing her to waiver. "What are we watching?"

Edith smiled, hoping the film might clue him in. "Love in the Afternoon."

"Hmm," he shrugged. "Never seen it."

And with that, Edith's last remaining hope and joy puttered out, and she was truly peeved. He'd gone and spoiled her evening, coming home late, and full, and exhausted because he'd spent yet another day and evening with Lavinia Swire, and now he didn't even remember the movie they were watching the first time he'd held her and carried her to bed.

Edith stood abruptly, throwing the remote on the sofa next to Anthony and startling him. "You watched it with me, you great ass!" she shouted.

Anthony stood too, looking truly afraid. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, torn between holding her and running from her. "I, I don't remember it."

"That's the bloody point, isn't it?" Edith spat, hands fisted in fury at her side.

"Edith, what's the matter?"

"The matter, Anthony, is that you should just tell me if I'm in the way instead of pretending everything's alright," Edith said, though she was fighting tears now. Her hormones were doing nothing to help her already fragile emotions, and she was on the verge of just losing it all together.

"But, everything _is_ alright. Or I thought it was."

"Don't be stupid, Anthony. It doesn't suit you."

"Will you please, please tell me what this is about?" he pleaded.

"If you're unhappy, Anthony, if you want to change the arrangement or the way things are, you've only got to say it. You don't owe me anything, and you certainly don't have to deny the obvious."

"What am I denying? For that matter, what am I being accused of?" he asked, losing some of his usual patience after such a trying day. He was tired.

Truth be told, he was beyond tired. He was utterly and thoroughly exhausted from months of worry and uncertainty and, most of all, months of fighting himself. When he was really honest with himself, Anthony could admit he'd been fighting his feelings long before Edith moved into his flat, or asked for his help.

Anthony had loved Edith Crawley since she first came on at A.S., and he'd been denying it ever since. He was worn out, his resilience threadbare, and his heart aching with want.

"I'm not 'accusing' you of anything, I just don't understand why you won't be straightforward with me. What exactly do you and Lavinia spend so much time discussing, Anthony? And why do you insist on pretending it's nothing?"

Anthony's heart stilled. He wanted so badly to tell her all, to lay it all out, but it wasn't his story to share and he'd made a promise. "Edith, old girl," Anthony tried, but Edith interrupted.

"What do you want, Anthony?"

"To know what the hell happened in the last five minutes that has you so damned upset," he said quickly, immediately regretting that his own fear came off as anger.

Edith closed her eyes, took a long breath through her nose, and Anthony waited. When she opened her eyes again they were full of meaning, and Anthony was tempted to just throw everything away right then and kiss her. "What do you _want_, Anthony?" she asked again, her voice low and intense.

Anthony's lungs seized up. Here she was, after so much time dancing around each other, skirting the tough questions and ignoring the real issues, asking him to be honest with her. Every fiber in his being told him to close the space between them, to beg her to be his, to settle for his care and attention. Instead he swallowed his longing and took one step back.

He loved her so much and so intensely, he was afraid to unleash it. And he was terrified what he would do if he had her and lost her, or worse if she rejected him. Certain Edith Crawley could and should find someone better and more worthy, he said simply "I want you to be happy."

Anthony barely recognized his own voice as he choked out the words. He wanted Edith to yell at him, or strike him, or tell him she couldn't possibly want a man like him. Instead, Edith dropped her head, shoulders slumping, and she began to cry.

"Edith," he whispered, but she shook her head.

"No, I'm through," she said, walking into her old room and locking the door behind her.

Anthony growled lightly, though he wasn't sure if it was out of frustration with Edith or anger at himself.

While Anthony was not typically one to drink his feelings, a glass of scotch suddenly seemed just the thing. In the kitchen he noticed the dishes drying in the rack and, upon investigating, found Edith's elaborate dinner packed away.

Moving into the dining room he saw the remnants of the candles and the table setting. All at once he realized his mistake. Moving to Edith's room, he rapped lightly on the door.

"Eed, sweetheart. Did you make dinner for me?"

There was no answer, though he could hear her moving about. Anthony laid his forehead against the door and tried again.

"Edith, I'm sorry I didn't come home in time for dinner, and that I didn't remember the film. Please won't you come out and talk to me?"

He knew that what he should have said was _I love you, and I want you, and that's all I've ever wanted_. He was fairly sure this was about more than a cold roast and a forgotten movie, but he couldn't be certain. Perhaps, in her current state, she could be swayed to accept him. Perhaps if he told her the truth she wouldn't be repulsed but relieved.

But then Anthony imagined Edith a year from now, a baby just learning to walk at her feet who looked just like her, and he imagined her polite smile each time she had to withstand his touch. He imagined her joy over the baby and her fear of going it alone sustaining her in their relationship for only so long before she grew weary of him and his blundering efforts at making her happy. She would grow tired and bored, and then resentful, and it would end poorly for them, and their daughter.

No, even if she thought she wanted him now, which he still doubted, she wouldn't want him when the pregnancy was over.

"Edith, I don't want you to be upset. Let's just talk about this, please? Is this about the dinner? I didn't know. I'm sorry I spoiled your surprise." When his pleas were once again met with silence, Anthony took a different approach. "We're happy, aren't we Eed? I mean, there's no need to be, to be upset, right? We're okay, old girl."

Anthony waited outside her room for nearly an hour, murmuring and rambling little pleas, all of them going unanswered. When any sounds of movement ceased and the light beneath the door went dark, he figured she'd finally gone to bed. Unwilling to let it go, he pulled one of the living room chairs up, positioning it across from her door, and waited.

His first thought upon waking was that he was far too old to be sleeping in small armchairs. Anthony's neck ached and his lower back was burning in protest. The slanting gold light from the windows told him it must be very early still, not even six if he were to venture a guess. Anthony hadn't intended on falling asleep, but he was determined to see her when she finally emerged from her room.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Anthony groaned. He needed a shave, and a solid night's sleep, and maybe a chiropractor at this point. Stretching his long arms, his eyes adjusted to the morning light, and that's when he noticed it. Edith's door was ajar. Standing and peeking his head in, he found her bed made and her room empty.

"Eed?" he called, wondering if she'd managed to get past him to his room in the night, or perhaps she'd be in the kitchen having breakfast? But no, Edith wasn't in the flat.

Rushing back into her room, he threw open her closet door to find her shelves empty. So too were her dresser, her bathroom, and her desk. Sometime in the night, while his useless old body was sleeping, Edith had cleared out, and he hadn't even woken to notice.

He tried her mobile, which of course she didn't answer, and then he found a little note on the kitchen table.

_Anthony—thank you for everything. I know that's not enough, but it's what I've in me. I'll be fine, and I can do this on my own. I can't stay here with you anymore, not with things as they are. Give Lavinia my best, as I won't be returning to work. E._

Anthony dialed Edith's mobile again. At the prompt he said, "Edith, damn it," but just as he was about to fire off of whole litany of arguments for her return, he stopped. Who was he to tell her she needed help, to ask that she check in with him? What claim had he on Edith Crawley or her child? None at all was the simple answer to that question. After several more minutes of silence, he pressed 'end' and watched the screen of his mobile go black.

Ever since Edith had sat in his office, stammering and afraid, asking him to help her make a child, Anthony had been walking a tightrope, trying to remain as close as possible to her without ever pushing her or testing her limits, loving her without knowing he loved her.

And now she was gone, left in the night with the child he always wanted, and her sweet laughter, and her sharp wit, and he felt more empty and alone than he ever knew was possible.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you SO much for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter! I'm sorry to have left you with another cliffhanger. I wanted to remedy that quickly, so here it is. Happy reading! And thank you, always, for taking the time to review. It's so very appreciated!

* * *

Anthony stared out the window of his office onto a categorical deluge. It was mid-August, and typical of London, it was absolutely pouring rain. He mused for a moment that at least the city had accommodated his mood of late, but it didn't make him feel better.

"You look like a zombie, mate," Matthew sighed, dropping into the chair across from Anthony's desk.

Anthony straightened immediately, carding a hand through his hair. "Oh, yes, it's just this damn storm. Wreaking havoc with the phone lines and my schedule," Anthony grumbled, shuffling some work around his desk. "Everything is running out of whack."

"She's fine, I promise," Matthew said, answering a question Anthony hadn't asked. "Aunt Rosamund's fussing over her like a mother hen, making sure she's comfortable. We're all taking excellent care of her."

Anthony went a little pale, his effort to remain stoic failing miserably. "I'm glad, though I'm sure it's not my place to worry. Edith no longer works here, and she's no longer in my care, so," his voice trailed off as he shrugged.

"What did you two fight about, anyway? If you don't mind me asking."

Anthony stared blankly at Matthew for a moment, then said quietly, "Lavinia."

Matthew frowned in thought, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Anthony, I will never be able to repay you for what you've done for me," he began.

"Matthew, you're the hardest working employee I've ever had."

"I'm not talking about the job and you know it," Matthew said quickly, his tone hushed. "If it weren't for you and your honor, Anthony, I…"

"Morning, boss," Daisy interrupted, barging into Anthony's office with a tea tray. She gave Matthew a look, and he stood.

"We can finish this later, I'm taking off for the day, but we'll talk," Matthew said, his expression assuring Anthony that he wasn't near finished.

Daisy set the tray down on Anthony's desk, scooped up his mess of papers, and set two pills in front of her boss.

"What are these?" Anthony asked.

"Aspirin."

"Yes, but why have you brought me aspirin?"

Daisy put her hands on her hips and Anthony had a sudden vision of his Latin teacher at Eaton. "Because, I can see that you need them. You look like you've been hit by a bus. Several busses at that. And if you're going to act like a hapless child I'll treat you like one. So will you take the aspirin or shall I hide them in marzipan and force-feed them to you?"

Anthony glowered but did as he was told, unwilling to spar with the girl who was more than half his age, easily half his weight, and nearly half his height.

Three weeks had passed. Three whole weeks of not speaking to Edith, of not bidding goodnight to her belly, or stealing touches of her skin when he could, of not being able to share every thought he had with her, and hearing her opinions in return. Three agonizing weeks of wondering if she'd gone into labor, if she was well, and if she needed him.

Anthony had spent a large majority of his life telling himself he was content, and believing his own lies. Now he didn't even bother with the falsehoods. He was miserable. Good and miserable, and it was his own damn fault.

The rest of the day passed largely in peace. He could hear Daisy shooing people away from his door, for which he was grateful. She'd pop in to give him periodic scoldings, but otherwise he was left alone. It was late in the afternoon when a bright, trilling voice startled him.

"Uncle Anthony," Rose greeted, flashing her large white grin and dimples. "Surprised to see me?"

Anthony fairly gaped at the young woman, who dropped unceremoniously onto the sofa in the far corner of his office.

"Rose, hi," he managed.

"Hi." She eyed him with a level of scrutiny no eighteen-year-old should be able to manage. "You look like shit. Have you been drinking?"

"No," he sighed, "And you shouldn't curse."

Rose laughed at him. "I'm on a mission," she said with a great deal of enthusiasm, perching herself on the edge of the sofa and grinning mischievously. "Do you want to know what it is?"

"Do I have a choice?" Anthony groaned. For the first time in a long time he truly felt his age. His body ached, his head was throbbing, he felt drained and friable. Rose just waited for his consent to continue. "Alright, what is it?"

"Well, for one thing, Edie has no idea I'm here and she'd probably murder me and bury me under the floorboards if she did."

"Wonderful. So what can I help you with? I still have that internship open if you want to talk Ros into letting you put off uni."

Rose flushed. "Trust me, I'll be taking you up on that offer when the time comes. But no. This is about you and Edith."

"Rose, honey, you don't need to do this," Anthony said gently, if not a bit condescendingly.

"Yeah," Rose giggled, "Don't patronize me, Sir Anthony. Anyway, Auntie Ros sent me and she's even harder to brush off than I am."

"Well, out with it then," Anthony grumbled.

"Edith's fine. She's staying off her feet, baby's still cozy and warm, Dr. Clarkson says she's the picture of health."

Anthony visibly relaxed, smiling despite all his gloom and self-loathing. "Oh, that's… thank god," he breathed for what felt like the first time in days.

"But she's unhappy, Anthony. And so are you. And you're both just downright bloody stupid, stubborn people. I mean, really, if I can see what you two refuse to, that's saying something."

"What?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised. Anthony, we've all seen you two together—Ros, Matt, Sybil, me, Tommy and Jimmy—we all know it. You two are so afraid of each other it's like we're watching a bloody Puccini drama play out or something."

"What do you know about Puccini?" Anthony asked with a scoff.

"I know that his lovers rarely find happiness, but it's usually out of some tragic circumstance. If you and Edith are unhappy it's because you're both stupid and pigheaded."

"Rose, Edith and I—we're just friends."

"Right, or you were until you fell in love with each other. And then made a baby together. And _then_ moved in together. And _then_ figured it out. Like I said, you're both bloody stupid."

"Rose," Anthony argued, but she stopped him.

"No, you're going to listen, and then I'm going to go, and that's that. Okay, look, Edith is young, but she's old, you know what I mean? You and Edith, it's like you both stepped out of some carriage circa 1910 or something, and everyone can see it but you two. And, in case it's escaped your attention, that's your kid in there, you know? I mean, you two might be 'just friends' but part of you, and a rather intimate one at that, is inside Edith, right?"

Rose was rambling, and she took a deep breath and shook her head as if to recalibrate. When she looked up again, her big brown eyes were bright and fiery—very much like Edith's when she's adamant about something.

"Anthony, look, I don't know what you two fought about. I only know that it's wrong. You're meant to be together. I'm not a metaphysical person, but I do believe that. You're good, and noble, and strong, and all the things that Edith needs. She only ran because she thinks she doesn't deserve you."

"What?" Anthony huffed, truly shocked at that little theory.

"What happened with her, with the affair—it's like family legend. Crawleys aren't supposed to make mistakes, and even though we all have, Edith had the courage not to hide from hers. And Uncle Robert and the rest of them punished her so thoroughly, Edith started to believe them about what an awful person she is. Anyway, she thinks she doesn't deserve you, that she's earned a life of misery. Like I said, bloody damn stupid."

"That's preposterous. She can do far better than a dull, middle-aged, book enthusiast."

"Dull and middle-aged you may be, but you're what she wants."

Anthony frowned at Rose, scowled at her really, and she laughed at him again.

"Look, I think you're both acting ridiculous and you should be embarrassed that a teenager has been sent to point something out you've probably known for a long, long time. But I will say this, Anthony."

Rose stood, gathered her bag on her shoulder and stepped closer to his desk. Then tempering her voice, she explained, "I live with my aunt because my parents were so busy hating each other they couldn't cope with me. I know what it's like to have a father who doesn't know you and doesn't want you. Don't do that to your daughter. I'm sure Edith will be fine on her own, as she insists, but don't they both deserve better than 'fine'?"

And with that, little Rose MacClare waltzed out of Anthony's office as if she'd just brought him the morning post.

Anthony was dumbstruck to say the least.

"Who was that?" Daisy asked, coming in with the last of the day's paperwork before she left.

"Rose MacClare, Edith's cousin."

"Sounded like she was giving you a dressing-down."

"Indeed. It's a family skill, apparently."

"Well good on her. Saves me the breath of telling you myself to get off your bum."

Anthony looked surprised, and Daisy just rolled her eyes. "I've been yours and Edith's secretary for, what, two years? You two have had it for each other since about five minutes after she started working here. You're joining the program already in progress."

"Jesus," Anthony muttered, dropping his head to his desk.

"Oh, stop being such a baby."

"Anyone else lined up out there to give me a lashing?" Anthony asked, standing as if to leave.

"Would be if you didn't have an assistant to fend them off for you."

Anthony looked around, patting his pockets for his keys, but Daisy rolled her eyes again and held them up for him. "Are you going over there now?"

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"Because you look like death warmed over. You need a good night's sleep and a shave before you present yourself to her."

"Daisy, you're a peach," Anthony muttered, kissing her quickly on the cheek before heading for the door.

"That's why you pay me so well."

"Do I?"

"Well, you will after you give me a raise."

"I'll sign the company to you if you want."

"I 'want' you to get moving," Daisy barked, physically pushing him through the door. "Get a bite, go to bed, clean yourself up a bit, and tomorrow go fix whatever mess it is you've made."

Anthony nodded and headed home, hopeful for the first time in three weeks.

By the next morning the weather had only gotten worse. While Anthony showered and prepared to face Edith, she was at her Auntie's, feeling sorry for herself.

Edith felt she was basically worthless these days, struggling with the simplest of tasks. She was in the bathroom every five minutes, couldn't sleep for more than an hour without having to wake up and reposition her gargantuan frame. Rosamund, though she had the purest of intentions, was constantly pecking and Edith hadn't had a moment alone since she left Anthony's.

And that was only the stuff she was willing to address. Never mind that her child had no father, she had no plan for the immediate future, her flat was totally unprepared for a baby, and all the nursery furniture was still in boxes at Anthony's flat. She couldn't bring herself to ask for it, and she was literally ready to have the baby at any moment.

For about the hundredth time since she woke up that morning, Edith burst into tears.

"Surely it can't be as bad as all that," Matthew sighed, startling her from her little fit. Edith was sitting on the sofa in one of Aunt Ros' many parlors, trying to read a book.

"I'm a selfish person, and an unfit mother," she hiccupped, trying to catch her breath between sobs. "I had no right to do this, and my daughter will hate me. And I don't have anything baby-proofed, and I'm basically homeless, and I haven't even picked out a name," Edith listed, growing more and more frantic as she went. Then, closing her eyes she whispered, "And my heart hurts."

Matthew sat next to Edith, putting an arm around her as she collapsed into his chest.

"I'm sorry, bug. I know it looks grim right now, but it'll all work out. And you're certainly not selfish or unfit. You're going to be a wonderful mother."

"I have no job, a tiny abandoned flat, and a half-finished manuscript hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk. What kind of five-year plan is that? What am I going to do?"

Matthew pulled back, looking rather impressed. "You have a half-finished manuscript? Eed! I thought you'd given up writing ages ago!"

Edith scooted away from him, regaining some of her composure. "That's what you took from all that? Matthew, I've quit my job and I'm literally going to have a baby any minute."

"You know you'll always have a place to go. And if you and Anthony ever get over yourselves I'm guessing it'll be him that takes care of you."

"I don't want to be taken care of, and certainly not by Anthony. And I don't want to talk about him."

Matthew pursed his lips and nodded, giving Edith the 'whatever-she-wants-because-she's-pregnant' face.

"What are you still doing here? Won't Mary miss you?" Edith asked. Matthew had taken to staying at Aunt Rosamund's during the week to accommodate his working in London and going home at the weekend to spend time with his wife. Normally he'd be gone already.

"Oh, she'll make do," Matthew said dismissively. Brightening his tone he asked, "What would you like to do right now? What will make you feel better?"

"I need to get out of this house. Auntie's barely let me leave my room and I've been here almost a month. And seeing as how I'm fairly certain this child is never leaving the womb, I don't see the harm of moving about."

"And where can I take you?" Mathew asked patiently.

Edith thought for a moment. "The office will be closed. I want to go there, and clear out my things. Now's a good a time as any, and I want to do it while the place is empty."

"To the office it is then," Matthew agreed.

"Really? Even in the rain, you won't mind?"

"What's a little rain?" Matthew smiled. "Anyway, I think we need to talk."

Edith nodded, holding her hands out so Matthew might hoist her off the sofa. "I'll just need my coat," she muttered, stretching her lower back.

"Coat? Edith have you seen it out there, Eed? You'd be better off with a life vest."

Edith gave Matthew a thin smile as they made their way to the entry, grateful one person in the world wasn't pressuring her for answers. She had the next hour or so figured out, and that was enough to keep her going for the moment.


	14. Chapter 14

For all the worry over the baby and early labor, Edith couldn't believe the determined little thing was still holding out.

"Two weeks," Edith said, "Two months of bed rest and she's two weeks overdue. Unbelievable."

"She sounds as stubborn as her mother," Matthew teased, earning a half-hearted scowl from Edith. The drive to the office was fairly silent. Now they sat, engine idling in the parking lot, as she stared up at the familiar brick building that housed A.S. Printers.

"I'll go in with you," Matthew said, but Edith shook her head.

"I'd rather you didn't. I'll just be a few minutes and there's no use in both of us drowning. Stay here and keep the cool air on."

The storm would prove to be record-setting, but at the time it just seemed like a lot of rain. It was one of those rare summer tantrums, where the raindrops feel so heavy and fat you could barely see, but the air was sweet and warm and steam rose up from the streets. The sky was thick with clouds, but was still bright from the summer glare behind them. Lightning and thunder would crack periodically. It was very beautiful, and very dramatic, like an old Italian opera.

Edith pulled the hood of her olive green raincoat over her head, but accepted she'd probably get soaked anyway. She knew her little white Keds and heather gray leggings certainly weren't rain gear, but she didn't mind. Along with the rain came an unbearable humidity and in her current state it felt about a hundred degrees outside.

"I'm going to make a run for it. I'll just be a minute," she said, though she wasn't sure what 'running for it' looked like for a tiny woman with a huge belly and a baby who refused to come out. Matthew looked skeptical too, but Edith just braced herself and hurried through the onslaught as best she could.

Because it was Saturday, the office was still and dark. Edith smiled. Stepping off the lift was rather like coming home. She put her keys back in her bag and took her time going through her office.

There was a sadness that pulled at her too, being in this space. She had seen Anthony just about every day for almost two years, and now she had gone two weeks, and she missed him desperately.

She knew it was stupid, their fight—no, not their fight, but their not talking. But she didn't know how to apologize for falling in love with him, and she didn't know how to be good enough for him. Edith sat in her chair, looking out onto the storm, and rubbed her belly, trying not to think about Anthony's hands, or the line of his jaw, or the feel of his breath against her neck while they slept.

"Miss Crawley?" came a shaking, small voice.

Edith nearly jumped out of her skin until she turned to find a very sheepish looking Lavinia Swire hovering in the door to Edith's office.

"I didn't expect to see anyone here on a weekend," Edith said, wondering if this woman was worth the effort of feigned politeness.

"I, um, wanted to catch up on some things. It's easier working when there's no one else here. Fewer distractions."

Edith had an image of Lavinia and Anthony bent over a layout, trying and failing to resist each other, and felt her stomach turn. "Yes, well, don't let me stop you," Edith said curtly, turning from Lavinia and collecting things from her desk.

Lavinia didn't leave right away, which Edith chose to ignore. Edith hated relying on pregnancy and discomfort as an excuse for her surliness, but she was certainly in no mood to cater to the woman who may end up with everything Edith wanted.

"Edith, may I ask you something?" Lavinia tested, and the way she seemed truly afraid only served to annoy Edith further.

"If you must, Lavinia. Only I really am in a hurry."

Lavinia nodded and tentatively sat at one of the chairs before Edith's desk. "It won't take long. It's just, well I get the feeling you're angry with me, and I think we both know why, and I just don't see the point in skirting the issue any more."

Edith stared at the woman coldly, and was almost pleased to see Lavinia was truly upset.

"I have no reason to be angry with you," Edith muttered, though her tone gave her away.

"Yes you have, and I don't blame you," Lavinia ceded, looking down at her hands.

"Look," Edith began, but something in her snapped. She'd already lost Anthony, she'd quit her job. Why should she try to be rational and generous with Lavinia Swire. Edith, she well knew, was not a good or a generous person—just ask her parents, or Margery Drake, or Edith's poor, fatherless child. No, Edith Crawley was selfish and imprudent and cruel.

"What is it, please?" Lavinia was practically begging to be punished. "It's not right, and I know better, and I understand why you especially would be hurt. Just tell me how you feel about it so we can all move on."

"No. You and Anthony are grown people who can do as you please. I don't know if you're aware of the whole situation, but he is just the donor, he's made that clear, so I'd rather just leave you to it," Edith said. Failing to mask the hurt in her voice, she stood and made to leave.

"Anthony?" Lavinia asked, her head snapping up.

"All the calls, the late meetings, Lavinia I'm not a stupid woman. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. And it's fine. I've no claim to him."

"Edith, no, no!" Lavinia gasped suddenly, her eyes growing wide and her face pale. Edith glowered for a moment, shocked the girl would deny it, and then saw something almost like relief in Lavinia's face.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"You've got it all wrong. I haven't been with Anthony, Edith, not at all!"

"But you just said," Edith stammered, frustrated and annoyed and hopeful, "You just said yourself that you knew it was wrong and that it would hurt me." That she had accidentally quoted herself, Edith ignored.

"Matthew," Lavinia said, the name breaking on her lips. "_Matthew_."

Silence rang between the two women for a solid minute while Edith's over-burdened brain caught up.

"You…and Matthew?"

Lavinia nodded slowly, looking absolutely tortured.

"But then… why? Why would you be afraid of me? And why all the closed-door meetings with Anthony? And the phone calls?"

"He caught us, Anthony did. And I begged him, _begged_ him, to keep it quiet. And to not fire us. And he kept his promises. He tried, really tried, to talk me out of it and when I wouldn't listen he was kind enough to counsel me through the aftermath. Matthew and I, well it was that first writing conference we went to. And the phone calls, frankly, are because this job is over my head."

Edith had to sit down again, afraid her shaking legs would give out altogether. She was staring at the floor, searching her brain for a single coherent thought.

"I was afraid that if you knew you would hate me. Not just because of what I'd done, but because I had done it to your sister." Lavinia closed her eyes against her tears, looking as though she had committed the greatest sin imaginable. And perhaps she had, but she hadn't been the first, and she certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Oh god, Lavinia," Edith finally sighed, "There's so much you don't know about me."

"Like what?" she sniffed, her lips trembling.

"Well to begin with, I don't care much for Mary and understand better than most how awful she can be to Matthew."

"You don't—you don't hate me?"

"No, and certainly not on Mary's behalf. I admittedly hated you a little when I thought it was Anthony you were with, but that's only because I'm in love with him."

"I did know that much," Lavinia said bashfully, blushing.

"Yes, you and everyone else in London apparently. It seems I was a bit behind on that one." Lavinia and Edith exchanged small smiles with one another. "Also, I know better than you probably realize what you're going through."

"You do?"

"Yes. I had an affair with a married man when I was younger."

"Did you love him?" Lavinia asked, a shade of desperation in her voice searching for approval or validation or forgiveness.

"I certainly thought I did. But Lavinia, it didn't end well. It never can in a situation like that. And whether he loved me or I loved him didn't matter, because he belonged to his wife. That's important, more so than people realize I think."

"Well, Matthew seemed to understand because he's broken it off. And frankly I'm relieved. I love him, I think I'll love him forever, but it's too miserable being deceptive. I've never felt so lonely as when I'm with him, knowing he can't really be mine, that it's not right."

Edith nodded and took a deep breath. She had no words of comfort, and knew Lavinia would feel unworthy of them anyway. After a few moments she asked, "What will you do?"

"Go home, probably, to my father. He bought a house in Brighton recently. Maybe I'll help him get settled. I can't stay here, that much I know for certain."

"You have a job here as long as you want I'm sure. Anthony isn't the sort to judge."

"And you?" Lavinia asked. "What will you do?"

"About what?"

Lavinia smiled, finally looking less like a scared school girl and more like a knowing adult. "About Anthony, of course. You love him, you're having his baby, you live in his home. It's not such a far jump to a relationship is it?"

"I suppose not, or it wouldn't be if I thought he felt the same, or thought I hadn't irrevocably ruined things between us."

"No offense, Edith, but you're due any day. No man in his right mind would hold anything you say against you at this point."

"Especially not a man like Anthony," Matthew said, surprising both women. Lavinia stood, stiff and immediately upset.

"I came to see what was taking Edith so long," Matthew offered, looking only at Lavinia. Then seeing the boxes in her office he said, "It would seem we've come to the same conclusions."

"I have to go, Matthew. You know that as well as I do."

"I'll leave you two to it," Edith said quietly, feeling quite in the way of their very real, very soapy drama.

"Eed, just give me two minutes and I'll drive you home," Matthew promised, tossing Edith his keys.

"Alright," she nodded, slipping away. Edith went to the car, trying and failing to get comfortable. Her joints ached, she felt swollen and sore, and her daughter was sitting so low against her pelvis she could hardly walk properly.

Fifteen minutes later a stoic-looking Matthew ducked through the summer storm to his Merc and slipped into the driver's seat beside Edith.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I feel like a weight's been lifted. I'll always love Lavinia, but she also reminded me of the husband I want to be to Mary. And if Mary will ever forgive me, I think we'll come out of this even stronger."

"That's a big if," Edith said.

"A very big if," Matthew agreed with a bitter, wary smile. "I love your sister, Edith. I haven't always liked her, especially not lately, but I do love her. She's a part of me for better or worse, you know? I think we took each other for granted for a while, but I can't live without her. It took Lavinia to remind me of that. Backwards as it sounds."

Edith looked out the window, a thousand thoughts rolling through her mind. Thoughts of John Drake and his wife, of what they might possibly have gained from her mistake, and Edith, after all these years, finally felt some of the guilt melt away. She couldn't be responsible for their marriage, and perhaps she had punished herself long enough.

"And now, my darling sister, where can I take you?" Matthew asked.

"Take me home, please."

"To Rosamund's?"

"No, Anthony's."

"Right you are," Matthew said, offering Edith that boyish grin he'd been giving her since she was seven years old. He really was her brother in every sense, and she silently thanked the universe for giving her Matthew as an ally.

Edith was more than a little disappointed to find the flat empty. Matthew insisted on escorting her in, watching her like a ticking clock.

"The baby won't fall out, you know," she teased as he lingered in the hall, watching her cautiously. Matthew smiled, shrugging off his trench coat.

"Of course not. But I'm not leaving you unattended. So should I get comfortable or would you like to go somewhere else?"

"Whatever happens, I'm going to need my bags from Rosamund's, and I wouldn't mind tracking down Anthony. This storm's got the mobile reception all messed up, so let me leave him a note and then, if you wouldn't mind, I'll go to Auntie's and get my things."

Matthew nodded, dropping like a sack of flour to the sofa. "I'll wait here. Take your time," he yawned, and Edith wondered when he last had a decent night's rest.

Edith's first stop was the study, to find a piece of stationary and a pen from the desk. On her way she passed the door of what would be the nursery. It was open, though she didn't give it much thought. Not until something large and dark caught her eye—the walnut crib she and Anthony had picked out so long ago.

Stepping into the room, Edith nearly fell apart again. It wasn't just that he had put the furniture together, which he had. It was that there were little touches everywhere that proved Anthony had put a great deal of thought into it all—a pillow in the rocking chair and a stuffed bunny Edith was sure she'd never seen before, little antique children's books on the bookshelf, along with wooden letter blocks, the lamb mobile she'd loved, and the blanket her mother had knitted draped over the side of the crib.

It was lovely, and perfect, and it was for their daughter.

Edith, wavering between giddy joy and crying, hurried for the paper and pen.

_Anthony,_

_I'm a mess, and a fool, and very much in love with you. And now I've roped Matthew into driving all over London until I've tracked you down. If you find this note before we find you, try calling Rosamund's and then stay put. I'm going to pick up a few things and I'll be home shortly. Storm has the mobile lines quite a mess, but I'll keep trying._

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Edith_

Changing her mind, Edith crumpled up the note and threw it in the fireplace.

_Anthony_

_I owe you an apology and I have so much to say to you. Matthew's running me to Auntie's for my things, and then I'll be right back home. If you find this before we find you please wait for me. The storm has made my mobile useless, but I'll keep trying._

_E._

Feeling more comfortable with that version, Edith folded it neatly in half. She then went to Anthony's closet. She had taken all her maternity clothes with her when she left, and was soaked through from the rain, so she decided to help herself to one of his shirts.

Edith was just pulling a pale blue oxford shirt from a hanger when she saw it. There, on the dresser beside his watches and cologne, was a framed picture. Not just any picture, but the first sonogram of their baby. Their baby, who had been theirs all along without either parent even realizing it. Edith began to cry, really cry, because she knew for certain now Anthony wanted them.

Apparently confirmation of Anthony's affections and faith in the future was all their daughter had been waiting for, because at that moment, after two weeks of making her mother wait, she decided it was time. Edith flinched at the sudden sharp pain, gasped in surprised, and then laughed nervously in realization.

"You've inherited your parents' talent for poor timing, my love," she said to no one but her child, who was soon to make an entrance in the world.

"Matthew?" Edith called, buttoning Anthony's shirt over her camisole. She hurried from the closet, the note forgotten where it lay on the floor. "Matthew!"

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, clearly forcing himself to wake up and be alert.

They met in the foyer between the living room and the bedrooms.

"Change of plans. We're going to hospital," Edith said calmly, cupping her belly with one arm as she moved to the landline in the kitchen.

"Hospital? Why?" he asked dimly. Edith just stared blankly at him as she dialed.

Rose answered. "It's Edith. Will you have Auntie pick up the navy bag from the foot of my bed and meet us at the Portland Hospital, please? She'll know where to go. Matthew's going to drive—" Edith rattled off quickly but calmly.

"Edith, love! Oh, he's here! He's here," Rose all but squealed.

"Who's there?"

"Anthony! He's here, he's been waiting for you to get back."

Edith felt a great deal of tension leave her that she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. He was there, she'd found him, and he wouldn't miss it.

"Oh, thank god. Can I speak with him please?"

There was a rustling on the line and then Anthony's eager, concerned voice asked, "Eed? Edith, sweetheart, is that you?"

"It's me, Anthony."

"Oh thank god," he breathed. "I've been trying to call you all day but this damned storm," he lamented.

"I know, I know... Anthony, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, darling. We'll get it sorted. I've hated not knowing how you two are doing, not being able to take care of you. How are you doing, by the way?"

"Oh I'm alright. I'm in labor."

There was a solid fifteen seconds of silence on the line before Anthony said quietly, "Edith, sweetheart, you're with Matthew, yes?"

"Yes."

"Could you put him on the line, please? And I'll meet you at the hospital."

Edith handed the phone to Matthew who looked just as confused as she did.

Matthew's eyes flashed to Edith, then down at his feet as he rambled off a series of "Yes, mm-hmm, yes, of course, I understand, no, of course. See you shortly."

When he hung up the phone Matthew moved to the front door and threw it open. "Shall we?"

"What was that about?"

"Just some instructions and a series of mild but effective death threats should I allow anything to happen to you," he said with a shrug. "All set?"

Edith couldn't help her grin—at Anthony's concern, at Matthew's grace under pressure, at the notion of meeting her daughter, of seeing Anthony soon. As despairing as she was when she woke this morning, Edith Crawley seemed very much on the verge of getting everything she could want.

"There's no hurry, really. I've only just begun contractions," Edith assured. But then another one hit, and this one came with a rush of clear liquid.

"What on earth was that?" Matthew asked, holding Edith up by her slender shoulders.

"My waters," she said calmly. "Perhaps sooner would be better than later."

"I think perhaps you're right. For your sake as much as mine," Matthew agreed.


	15. Chapter 15

Whenever Edith pictured this day, she had not imagined it would be Matthew taking her to the hospital. Of course, she had barely let herself think about anything more than a few days into the future—self-preservation and all. Now, as her dear brother-in-law was trying desperately to remain calm as he navigated across town, Edith figured it would be best to remain quiet and let him focus.

Of course, quiet was a problem all on its own. It gave her time to think, and with thinking came worry. She and Anthony hadn't actually settled anything, their daughter had rather seen to that. Edith tried to remember the picture, and the nursery, to hold onto reason and remind herself that yes, of course he wanted them. But she was also in labor, and surely no one could blame her for being a little bit emotional and fragile.

"All set, bug?" Matthew asked, a giddy sort of conspiratorial light in his eyes as he parked the car.

"Do I have a choice?" Edith asked softly, hoping her smile would mask her nerves.

"Afraid?" His voice was gentle, like he was torn between telling her to toughen-up or let it out.

"It's ridiculous, you know," she answered, looking down at her hands. "I'm not afraid of the labor, or the pain, or even being a mother. I'm afraid of him."

"Anthony?"

Edith looked sheepish. "I said it's ridiculous. But I've no idea what to expect at the moment, and it's terrifying."

Matthew was quiet for a moment, then said, "You know, when you smile like that you kind of look like him. It's Anthony's smile."

It was a funny comment, but for whatever reason, it made Edith feel immensely better. And then another contraction hit, and Matthew helped her through it as best he could. When it was over he insisted they leave before his niece is born in the front seat of his Merc.

Edith and Matthew checked in and were directed to the fourth floor. They stepped off the lift to find Anthony waiting anxiously, Rosamund and Rose in tow. They caught him mid pace, and he froze a little when he saw them. His eyes traveled Edith's body, and she knew he was taking some sort of assessment.

The moment he finally looked up and Edith's eyes met his, she began to cry.

"Sweetheart, don't cry," he pleaded, wrapping his arms around Edith's shoulders. "Today's a happy day. Don't be sad."

"I'm not sad. I'm terrified, and relieved, and in a fair amount of pain," Edith explained, laughing with her sobs, both of them totally forgetting their audience.

"Well, you're a right mess, aren't you old girl?" Anthony whispered, smiling warmly at her before kissing her forehead.

"Anthony, I saw the nursery. It's so lovely. It's perfect."

"It was the only I thing I could think to do to keep from going mad."

"It's beautiful. She's going to love it."

"I certainly hope so," he said, pressing another kiss to her temple. "Edith, sweetheart," he began, but they were interrupted.

"Right," the nurse at the station said. "We need to get you to a room. Who will be with you?" she asked Edith.

"I will," Anthony said with assurance. As the nurse led them down the hall he added an "Always," for Edith's benefit alone. They left a rather shell-shocked Matthew, Rosamund, and Rose in the lobby to fend for themselves while they waited.

They were being looked after by a Nurse Hughes, who was kind and warm, and Anthony had already vowed to add a wing to the hospital in the woman's name. An hour into Edith's labor, all their energy was focused on the baby, and Anthony's goal was to keep Edith calm, and happy.

"Okay, Mum and Dad. You've quite the crowd in the lobby. They've asked me to inform you that 'Sybil, Mary, and Cora are on their way', and that 'Robert and Violet send their love from Yorkshire'," Nurse Hughes recited, checking the readout of the baby's heart rate. Her tone was questioning, trying to remember all the names properly.

"Thank you," Edith managed, clasping Anthony's hand.

"You are allowed to have them back here, if you wish," the nurse reminded them, and laughed knowingly when Edith and Anthony both barked "No!" at the same time.

Three hours later Edith and Anthony stood in her private room, embracing what they could remember from their birthing classes and improvising the rest. Edith had found that standing was most comfortable at the moment, locking her hands behind Anthony's neck during contractions as he kneaded her muscles and talked her through. For having no experience in the area, Anthony was a remarkable labor coach.

The pair didn't notice as Sybil, Mary, and Cora approached the room, having just arrived. Cora was about to knock against the open door when Anthony spoke, causing her to still her movements.

"You know, I made a birthing playlist too," he said as he and Edith swayed together against the end of a particularly strong contraction

"Oh?" Edith asked, trying to breathe and enjoy the temporary reprieve between pains.

"It's true," Anthony whispered, maintaining their rhythm.

"Sing me one of the songs," Edith demanded, her eyes slightly more pleading than her voice.

"You don't want to hear me sing," Anthony replied with a humorous warning. He knew very well that he was no great vocal talent.

"I do, I really do," Edith said. As she waited for his answer, she dropped her head suddenly and re-gripped his shoulders, sucking in a quick breath. "They're really coming fast," she managed, trying desperately to stay on top of the contraction.

Quietly Anthony rocked with her, laying his head on hers and closing his eyes, and he began to sing. His voice was barely above a whisper, his lips close to her ear, but the voyeuristic Crawley women could still hear the words.

"The night we met I knew I needed you so. And if I had the chance I'd never let you go. So won't you say you love me? I'll make you so proud of me. We'll make them turn their heads every place we go. So won't you please, be my, be my baby? My one and only baby. Be my, be my baby now."

He sang it much slower than the Ronettes' original version, making it a sort of lullaby. Working through the contraction, Edith joined in with the second verse, though her contribution was stilted and breathless. "I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see. For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three. Oh since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you. I know I will adore you 'til eternity."

"That's it, darling, that's it," Anthony said, helping her through the end of the contraction. Straightening, Edith did not let go of Anthony but moved her hands from his shoulders, over his chest, and under his arms. Anthony pulled Edith to him with one arm on her back and the other stroking her hair.

"How is it possible," she asked, relishing in the feel of his arms, "That we got this so backwards?"

"We'd hardly be us if we didn't flub it a bit," he answered, pressing a kiss into her hairline.

"I think I've loved you since the moment we met."

"I think I've loved you longer than that."

Absently, Edith knew it was a profound thing—saying _I love you_ for the first time. But it wasn't the first, not really. Anthony had said it every time he waited for her by the car, tea and toast in hand, as Edith scrambled to leave for work in the morning. He said it every time he brought her tea with honey and a splash of milk as she likes, or left her paper open to an article he knew she'd enjoy, or massaged her aching muscles. He'd said it when he agreed to help her make a baby, when he asked her to move in so he might take care of her.

Edith smiled, laughing lighting into his chest as they held each other. "We're both idiots for not realizing it sooner," she said, her words muffled against his gray sweater.

"Yes," he agreed. Then pressing a kiss to her hair he added in a deep, sonorous whisper, "I love you. I _love_ you."

The two of them stayed like that for a while, before Cora snapped out of it and suddenly felt terribly intrusive.

"Hello," Cora managed, rapping on the door and hoping it would appear they had just arrived. Edith and Anthony moved apart, though Edith still clutched Anthony's forearm.

"Mama," Edith heaved. "Matthew said you were coming. I didn't…I'm glad, but I… Why did you come?" Edith stammered.

"I wouldn't miss this, Edith. Whatever you think I feel… Well, I wouldn't miss this. It's my first grandbaby after all," Cora said softly, approaching Edith with something like embarrassment and fear. She tentatively gave Edith a hug, then stepped back awkwardly.

"Oh god, you did this three times?" Edith asked with a shaky laugh.

"You'll forget by tomorrow what it felt like, I promise," Cora smiled.

"Eed, I must grant that aside from the gown you look unreasonably beautiful right now. Isn't it the right of every laboring woman to be sweaty and red-faced and swollen?" Sybil joked, kissing Edith hello, and winking at Anthony. "And you, Anthony? How are you holding up?"

"Right as rain, thank you," Anthony said softly, squeezing Edith's hand still. "I've the easy part in all this."

"Your father and Granny wanted to be here. We didn't want to overcrowd you," Cora said, still trying to cover for Robert's judgment.

Mary, finally finding something to say, asked, "How are you managing, Edith?"

"Alright."

"She's making it all look rather easy," Anthony added proudly.

Edith and Anthony smiled at each other warmly, both realizing there was so much more to be said.

"Ah, I see we've gathered some spectators," Nurse Hughes said cheerfully, coming back into the room. "Edith, I want to go ahead and check your progress if that's alright."

"We'll be right down the hall, Edith," Cora nodded, pulling Mary and Sybil behind her.

"Good luck, darling, we'll be rooting for you," Sybil beamed, exuberant as ever before shutting the door behind them.

"Did you know?" Mary asked Cora the moment the door shut. "I mean did you have any clue it was like that between them?"

"A clue? Yes. Absolute knowledge, no," Cora replied.

"If either of you had ventured to see her, you would have known," Sybil chided. "They're quite perfect for each other, actually."

"At the risk of sounding frightfully old-fashioned, I'm just glad my grandbaby is going to have a father," Cora breathed, dropping onto the waiting room sofa beside Rosamund.

Mary laughed through her nose. "I suppose I am too."

She and Matthew had done a fair job of ignoring each other, but now the tension between them was nearly unbearable.

"How long, do you think?" Mary asked her mother.

"As of an hour ago Anthony said she was about half-way there," Matthew offered tentatively, looking all kinds of repentant. "Likely a few more hours at least.

"These things are never easy for the impatient or the faint of heart," Rosamund offered, not looking up from her fashion magazine.

Matthew and Mary avoided eye contact for a time before he finally sighed. "Mary," he said firmly, standing and offering his hand, "Would you care to take a walk with me?"

Mary looked for a moment like she was going to refuse, and then her expression softened, and she took his hand.

"Don't venture too far," Cora suggested as the two walked slowly away, arm in arm.

Not long after, though it seemed an eternity to Edith, Nurse Hughes nodded decisively. "That's it, Edith, you've done it. Are you ready to start pushing?"

"I hardly know," Edith answered with a hysterical little laugh.

"Dad, you'll need to put on some scrubs," Nurse Hughes said to Anthony, causing him to flinch slightly. As she left to get him a set, Edith looked up at him.

"I like being called Dad, Eed."

Edith smiled at him, reveling in the comfort of his blue eyes and the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere.

Twenty minutes later, Anthony was behind Edith, his stocking feet on either side of her, their hands locked together on each of her knees. Between each push Edith's head would roll back on Anthony's shoulder, and each time she pressed on he was there, whispering encouragement into her ear.

"Alright, Mum, hold on a moment," Dr. Clarkson said, reaching for a suction bulb. "Baby's head is out. You're nearly there."

After some quick movements, Nurse Hughes added, "Alright, honey, now one big push."

"You're doing it, love," Anthony repeated, "You're doing it. That's it."

And then, with one soft growl, Edith brought their daughter into the world. She collapsed against Anthony, panting and laughing.

Anthony kissed her shoulder, exposed by the soft hospital gown, and said, "Oh well done, you." It wasn't until the little cry escaped the squirming thing in the nurse's arm that Anthony's heart stopped dead and fell to the floor of his stomach.

"How is she?" Edith asked, smiling as she nuzzled into Anthony's neck.

The nurse weighed and cleaned the baby with expert speed. Wrapped in a soft white blanket, she brought the newborn back. Leaning over them both, she said, "Mum, Dad, meet your daughter."

As Edith settled the bundle gingerly into her arm, Anthony saw his daughter's face for the first time. Slightly red from the recent journey she'd endured, she was remarkably calm, and alert.

"Hello my darling," Edith whispered. Anthony tore his gaze from his daughter for a moment to look at his Edith, all tears and elation. "She'll have your eyes, I think," Edith said, looking up at Anthony. When their eyes met, something deep inside of Anthony came roaring to life.

"Oh, god, I love you," he whispered, kissing Edith on the mouth.

Strange that their first kiss would happen after they'd already become a family. But then so much about them was wonderfully unusual. His lips moved over hers softly, reverently, and when they finally broke he said, "I love you both."

They looked back to their daughter then, parents and child examining one another with curiosity. As Anthony ran his hand over his daughter's head Nurse Hughes asked quietly, "And what name will we be putting on the certificate?"

"Ina Jane Strallan," Edith answered without hesitation. Then looking quickly to Anthony she asked, "If that's alright with you?" The question had more to do with the child's last name than her first, a larger request implied there.

"It's perfect." He hooked his finger into his daughter's tiny hand. "My little Ina."

Edith nuzzled into him again and after a few more moments Anthony broke the silence.

"Do you think we can get our wedding together in six or seven weeks?"

Edith didn't even blink. "Yes. We don't need a grand affair."

"No."

"And hopefully my body will be somewhat back to normal by then," she laughed. "It's rather a shame you didn't see it before."

"Do you honestly think I could want you less?" he asked simply.

Edith kissed his jaw by way of reply, then said, "Alright, why don't you take Ina to go meet everyone please? I'd rather you didn't witness the next bit."

Anthony stood before taking the baby from Edith. "Is that, is it alright? To take her out there, I mean? Am I holding her properly?" he asked, turning to Nurse Hughes for guidance.

Nurse Hughes smiled tenderly at him. "You're just fine, Dad. Mind her head and she'll be quite content."

Ina was well received, particularly by Rose, who surprised herself by crying. Anthony couldn't begin to help the proud grin that he wore. "Ina Jane Strallan," he said, "Edith's perfect, she did so well."

There was a general outcry of congratulations and well-wishes as Anthony tilted his arm and allowed his daughter's family to examine her. Cora, overcome with emotion and glee, gave Anthony a sloppy kiss on the cheek and gushed, "Oh, welcome to the family, both of you."

That Matthew and Mary were holding hands did not escape Anthony's attention, and he shared a moment of understanding with the younger gentleman.

When Anthony made his excuses and bid goodnight to the others, he and his daughter made their way back to Edith. She was his daughter, and she always had been. It had taken nine months of denial and fear and pride to figure it out, but here they were.

"There you are," Edith said, though she sounded as if her ordeal was finally catching up with her. Her room was dark save a single lamp in the corner and she was lying back against the pillows. "I was wondering where my little family ran off to."

"This little one had quite the mob waiting on her," Anthony whispered, settling his child in Edith's arms before sliding onto the bed beside her.

Edith was half-asleep, and Anthony watched his daughter and his wife, as she would be soon enough, resting against him. He had stumbled into this. Blindly and dumbly, he had agreed to make this little person, knowing only that he wanted Edith to be happy. When it all began, he never would have counted on this, not in his wildest dreams.

Edith had asked him what he wanted. And he did want her to be happy, always. Only now, as the three of them dozed together, did he accept that her happiness included him. And when little Ina Strallan let out a single mewling cry, Anthony knew that he had finally found the thing he never knew he was looking for.

"I can tell you're thinking all sorts of sappy things," Edith muttered with a smile. Anthony watched in wonder as Mother and Child worked together to figure out the feeding.

"Can you blame me?"

"No," Edith said as the baby finally latched on. "But I can tease you mercilessly."

"Love, you've been doing that for nine months. I wouldn't expect it to change."

Sure that the baby was content, Edith looked up at Anthony, their faces close. "I'm going to love you forever."

"Good," Anthony said, kissing his Edith, his love and the mother of his child, for the second time. "That'll give me plenty of time to make up for not doing this sooner." And he kissed her again, and again, and again.


	16. Chapter 16

"Bye, Frump," Thomas bid, kissing Edith on her lips at the front door. "Thanks for dinner."

"Remind Anthony we've a tee-time of nine on Saturday, will you?" Jimmy asked as Edith kissed him goodbye.

"I will," Edith said with a relaxed smile. "Drive safe."

Thomas pursed his lips. "If you hadn't moved out to the hills we could have cabbed it home," he complained. "I'm just saying."

"Yes, but then I would have had to use your second closet for storage."

"Ugh, what a point," he said sardonically, blowing Edith another kiss as he stepped into the car. A breeze blew in, and with it came the smell of Edith's honeysuckle vines, of which she was stupidly proud. She waved once more as Thomas and James drove down the long, winding drive and disappeared into the oak trees.

"Mummy, is Uncle Thomas leaving?" came Ina's little voice. Edith turned to find her daughter padding down the hall, rubbing her eyes with a fist and pulling at her tight white pajamas.

"Oh, my darling, you surprised me!" Edith said softly, scooping up her daughter and tucking Ina's little blonde head under her chin. "You were supposed to be asleep. I seem to remember putting you in bed two hours ago."

"You didn't answer me," Ina grumbled. For being almost four years old, Ina Jane Strallan was incredibly astute and quite articulate. Edith openly blamed Anthony for this. Instead of reading Beatrix Potter or Winnie the Pooh, Anthony read to his children from the Book of Virtues and JM Barrie and CS Lewis. Of course, Edith was pleased as punch by it.

"Yes, my darling girl, Uncle Tommy and Uncle Jimmy have left, but you will see them next weekend at the party."

"Why does Imogen get a party?" Ina asked, toying with the locket Anthony had given Edith on their third anniversary.

"Because it's her third birthday, and we always get a party on our birthdays. Just like you will get a party next month when you turn four."

"Why did Uncle Jimmy call me and Imogen Irish twins?"

"Because you two are the same age for a whole month out of each year."

"Why do Imogen and I get big parties with balloons while you and Daddy only ever have Uncle Tommy and Uncle Jimmy and Auntie Rose and Grammy Ros over?"

"Well, because Daddy and I get much more excited about you having been born. And because we spoil you both rotten," Edith laughed, drawing little circles on her daughter's back, hoping to lull her into sleep.

"I'm not rotten," Ina protested.

"Not yet, but you will be if I let you stay up much longer," Edith said, kissing Ina on the head as she moved into her daughters' bedroom. Imogen had her own room, but the two girls were thick as thieves and, after waking up to find Genny in Ina's bed for the hundredth time, Edith and Anthony finally gave up and let them sleep together.

"Mummy?"

"Yes?" Edith whispered, lowering Ina to her bed and pulling the quilt up around her.

"When will Daddy be home?"

"He missed the train, sweetheart. He'll be home soon, though."

"Will you send him in when he gets here? I want to say goodnight."

"Yes, my love."

Edith kissed Ina on her forehead, pushing a mess of blonde curls away to do so. "We're going to have to do something about this hair," Edith smiled, patting her daughter's cheek.

"Daddy said that this morning. But he said it was 'your department'."

"Yes, well, do you really want Daddy cutting your hair?"

Ina giggled, a peeling little noise that Edith never tired of. "No."

"Didn't think so. Now sleep," Edith commanded gently. "Daddy and I will be here in the morning."

"I love you to the moon, Mummy."

"I love you to the stars."

"I love you forever."

Edith couldn't remember exactly how this little ritual had begun, or when, but they said it every night, and Ina wouldn't go to sleep without repeating the same words.

"Mummy, why are you frowning?"

"I was just thinking," Edith sighed, kissing her daughter again. "You know how much I love you, right? How wonderful and clever and special I think you are?"

Ina rolled her eyes in a way that was too Crawley for Edith's comfort. "Yes, Mummy."

"Just checking. Go to sleep."

After kissing Imogen, who was sleeping like a stone in the other twin bed, Edith smiled to herself. Her girls, who looked exactly alike, were safe and happy in their little home. After years of fighting with her sisters and hiding by herself in the cavernous Downton Abbey, she couldn't help but be pleased with the home she and Anthony had made in the country, modest and cozy and warm.

Edith eased the door to her girls' room shut and crept across the hall where her son was asleep in his nursery. It was clear at two years old that little Matthew would look exactly like his sisters—miniature versions of Anthony. If Edith loved the man any less she would almost be annoyed that there was hardly any evidence of her involvement in their creation.

Assured that her children were asleep and well, Edith fixed some chamomile tea and got comfortable on the living room sofa while she waited for Anthony. She had barely settled when she heard the front door and the familiar sound of her husband's briefcase being dropped on the entryway table.

"Eed?" he called softly.

"In here," she replied, beaming like an idiot when he rounded the corner. Married almost four years, they were still in each other's pockets and Edith never failed to get a little bit giddy whenever they met again, however brief the separation.

"Hello, wife," he said, "kids asleep?"

"Ina fought it, of course, but yes, they're all down. She requested that you stop in to say goodnight when you get home."

Anthony knelt on the far end of the sofa and stretched toward Edith, sprawling out on his stomach and resting his chin on her leg as his arms wrapped around her.

"Long day?" Edith asked, carding her fingers through her husband's hair.

"I don't like being away from my family," he complained, "And I was more than a little perturbed at having missed the early train. I'm sorry I missed dinner with the boys, too."

"They send their love, and Jimmy asked to remind you about golf on Sunday."

These quiet moments, when nothing remarkable was happening, just the Strallans going about their days—they were Edith's favorites. She ached with love for the man.

"What did they say about our news?" Anthony asked, a familiar grin sneaking across his features. "Did you tell them?"

"I did. Jimmy was pleased, nice as ever. He said, 'I suppose this is definitive proof that fertility doctor was a bleeding eejit,'" Edith laughed.

"And Thomas?"

"He said, 'Yeah, but do you have to keep proving it?' Which I think is his way of congratulating us."

Anthony laughed lightly, resting his head against his wife's tummy, knowing that in a matter of weeks it would be swollen with his child again. "Remember when we thought we'd never sleep together?" he scoffed.

Edith chuckled too. Of course she remembered. He was referring to their wedding night, or rather their wedding night that wasn't.

It had been a funny wedding, really, but that didn't make it any less lovely or perfect. Six weeks after their daughter was born, Edith and Anthony stood in the Registry Office in Hyde Park Corner, London. Thomas and James were there, along with George Murray and his wife. Robert and Cora stood with Mary, reverent and civil if not a little confused. Sybil was beaming with the enthusiasm she held for everything, squeezing Tom periodically with that girlish, romantic smile she had.

Rose was asked to be the Maid of Honor, though all that really entailed was holding Ina during the ceremony, which she was glad to do. Matthew served as Best Man, and Anthony insisted Matthew was the best sort of friend any gentleman could ask for.

Edith wore a simple dress—soft cotton in a very light butter yellow with a delicate vine pattern on it in cream. It was tea-length and sleeveless, cut high at the neck. She paired it with a white cardigan, and little white flats. Anthony, likewise, wore his lightest gray suit and a white shirt, no tie. And of course little Ina's ensemble was the highlight, a yellow frilly gown and a white cotton cap and knit mary-janes.

Edith and Anthony were, frankly, too exhausted with parenting a newborn to enjoy a traditional honeymoon, and they would have loathed to leave Ina anyway. Going against tradition as they were so apt to do, eleven o'clock on their wedding night found Edith and Anthony Strallan passed out on the sofa in their flat. They were fully-clothed, two ful champagne flutes on the table, remains of a half-hearted attempt to live up to the occasion, while Ina slept happily in her cot.

They later speculated fate or divine intervention that from that day forward Ina began sleeping through the night.

It had indeed seemed, that first night, as though Edith and Anthony would never be together in that way they had both so longed for. But that simply was not the case, which they would prove sometime around three o'clock that morning when they both woke and moved from the couch to their bed.

"We made Genny that night," Edith murmured, closing her eyes as she traced patterns on Anthony's shoulders.

Imogen Rose had been a surprise to say the least—a direct result, Anthony was sure, from his and Edith's pent-up…emotions. Roughly a month after their wedding Edith had tapped Anthony on the shoulder where he sat in the nursery, rocking Ina.

When he looked up, Edith's face had been pale and unreadable and Anthony was truly beginning to panic until Edith presented a white and purple stick with a little plus sign on it, shrugging helplessly as if no words in existence could possibly hope to explain.

"But I thought… I thought you couldn't, that we would need help when," Anthony had sputtered, somewhere between unmitigated glee and absolute terror.

"I think perhaps the doctors were mistaken," Edith had replied numbly.

It had taken practically the entire pregnancy to accept that they had made another child already, and about two seconds after Genny's birth to realize they had struck perfection twice.

When Edith fell pregnant with little Matthew Anthony the Strallans gave up on the notion of 'infertility' altogether. It was practically a family joke anymore, the idea that Edith would have trouble conceiving. Especially when, four weeks ago, she had her most recent pregnancy confirmed by the stalwart Dr. Clarkson.

"For poor Mattie's sake, I hope this one's a boy."

"Oh, he'll be fine either way," Edith laughed.

"Have you thought anymore about when we'll tell your parents?"

Edith sighed. "No."

"Are we going to Mary's shower?"

They had received the invitation—a formal, frilly thing in all shades of blue—Inviting 'Mr. and Mrs. Strallan' to the baby shower of 'Lady Mary Crawley'. Rich, considering technically Edith and Anthony were 'Sir and Lady' as well, and Edith had never once been thrown a party for any of her pregnancies. It was difficult, to say the least, to feel anything but bitter rejection and contempt.

"If they really wanted us there Mary would have called. That invite was little more than an insult."

"What better response than to show up and be genuinely kind and gracious? Anyway, I know Matthew would want us to go," Anthony suggested.

"You just want an excuse to play with Matthew and Tom," Edith accused lightly, smiling at her husband's goodness.

"Well, Matthew and I don't have nearly as much fun at work as we do dodging Granny's insults," Anthony quipped. "And anyway, think how perfect it will be to make our announcement in the middle of Mary's grand, attention-seeking affair?"

"Just when I think you're too saintly for your own good you go and say something as wicked as that," Edith muttered, moving her hand from his back to trace the pressed collar of his shirt.

"Your influence, my darling."

Edith sighed and closed her eyes. "If we go we'll have to stay at the big house overnight."

"The girls will love it. Despite our less-than-wonderful relationship with your parents, our children adore them, and vice versa."

"Very well," Edith agreed heavily. "We'll go."

Anthony knelt up, bracing one hand behind Edith and the back of the sofa, and the other on the arm, fairly trapping her beneath him. For a blissful moment Edith thought Anthony was going to kiss her, but instead he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, the usual—a little tired is all, really."

"A little tired? We've three children a year apart each. I haven't felt rested in four years. I'd be concerned if you weren't tired," Anthony laughed.

He often joked about their brood, about each child being less than three months old before the next was on its way. This new baby had taken its time in conception, though it wasn't for lack of trying, Anthony had been quick to point out.

"You know what I was thinking about earlier?" Edith mused, plucking at the buttons of his shirt.

"What's that my love?"

"Ten years from now Ina will be pushing fourteen."

"Yes?" Anthony said, not following her point. That he managed to try at all was a feat, considering his little Edith had leaned in to kiss the skin at the collar of his V-neck undershirt.

"Our sweet, toddling little dears are all going to be teenagers one day. And all at the same time," Edith continued. Finished with the buttons of his shirt she moved to his belt and trousers.

"That _does_ sound daunting. Especially since ten years from now I'll be sixty-four."

"Will you still be sending me valentines, birthday greetings, bottles of wine?" Edith asked, laughing as she quoted the song.

"Oh, you're so clever," Anthony said dryly, leaning down to nibble on Edith's neck.

"I am, rather, yes," she replied. She had to work to keep her voice cool given that she had just slipped her hand into his trousers. "Anyway, we'll think of ways to maintain your youthful vigor."

"Edith Strallan, where on earth did you come from?" Anthony gasped, pulling her legs from under her so she was lying on her back beneath him. He silenced her mouth before she could reply with something witty.

It was a valid question in his mind—to this day he had no clue how Edith came from her often awful parents, how she ended up in his company, and what he did to deserve her being the mother of his children.

Anthony's great hands traveled from Edith's ankles to her calves, paused at the ticklish spot behind her knees, and were just reaching the soft skin at the hem of her dress when a little voice interrupted.

"Daddy, you were supposed to say goodnight," Ina scolded, unaware and unalarmed by what her parents were very nearly doing.

Anthony looked over his shoulder, then back at Edith as she stifled a laugh and subtly disentangled herself from his drawers.

"Ina, my darling daughter. Give me one moment with Mummy and I will come say goodnight."

"I'll wait," Ina said, folding her arms over her chest and raising one eyebrow.

"She gets this from you," Anthony said, pulling away from Edith and fixing his trousers.

Edith's mouth gaped in protest. "She most certainly does not!"

"Eed, look at her eyebrow, and that angle of her little foot," Anthony muttered as he stood and walked to Ina, arms out for her as he looked back at his wife.

Edith pulled herself up again, sitting on the edge of the sofa. "Keep it up and I'll go straight to bed," she warned, trying not to laugh.

Anthony scooped Ina into his arms, making her look tiny in comparison with his stature. "Oh, please do Mrs. Strallan. I'll be in there in five minutes."

"Daddy, why is Mummy cross with you?" Ina asked, resting her head on her father's broad shoulder.

Anthony looked over Ina's head at Edith with that certain gleam in his eye. "Because I'm very good at getting Mummy all geared up, and now she's quite agitated. I don't blame her a bit."

"But what are you going to do to fix it?" Ina persisted. "Mummy says we mustn't go to bed angry."

"Oh, Mummy isn't really angry my sweet. She's just a little annoyed, but not to fret. She'll be happy as a clam in no time," Anthony explained as she and Anthony disappeared into her room.

"But how?" Edith heard her daughter ask. Ina was not one to be easily brushed off. She was bright, almost too bright, and quite determined.

"I'm going to kiss her silly," Anthony whispered loudly, knowing full well Edith was paying attention. When Ina's trilling little giggle danced down the hall, Edith grinned.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Why does Uncle Thomas call me your 'little science experiment'? And why does Mummy always hit him when he does?"

"Because, my pet, Uncle Thomas likes to make jokes that are a little too close to truth to always be funny."

"_Am_ I a science experiment?"

Edith tiptoed down the hall to watch Anthony and their daughter. He was so good with his children—infinitely patient and totally enamored. Edith loved the special way he had with each one, something special and unique, and wondered what side of him this fourth one would expose.

"You are no experiment, my sweet. You know how Mummy is so much smarter and more clever than I am?"

"Yes," Ina agreed, her expression serious.

Anthony laughed once through his nose and nodded. "Well, Mummy knew long before I did that we were supposed to be a family. And when you came into the picture, well it just sealed the deal."

"Is that why Grammy Cora says you and Mummy got everything backwards? That I came in the wrong order?"

"Grammy Cora is just confused. You had to come first so that Mummy and I could find each other."

"I don't understand," Ina grumbled. Her oversized vocabulary often belied the fact that she was still a young child and made it easy to forget many things were out of her depth still.

"I don't expect you to, sweet. Do you know that I love you?"

"Yes."

"Do you know that your Mummy loves you?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise to be good when you're a teenager, never do drugs, stay away from boys, go to Oxford and become a nun?"

"No," Ina said plainly.

"Well, we'll work on the rest in the morning. Goodnight, my love. And I mean good_night_. No more trips down the hall, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"I love you to the moon."

"I love you to the stars."

"I love you forever," Anthony said, kissing his oldest daughter's tiny hand before patting Genny on the head and stepping out.

Anthony seemed startled when he shut the door to his girls' room and found Edith standing right behind him.

"You are wonderful," Edith said. "Do you really want her to be a nun?"

"At the moment, yes. It's better than the alternative. Maybe I'll change my mind down the road."

Edith laughed and kissed her husband on the cheek. He ran a hand over her jaw, and for a moment they just watched one another. Then, without warning, Anthony bent at the waist, put an arm under Edith's bottom, and threw her over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, alarmed but not willing to wake the sleeping children.

"Putting you to bed," Anthony answered simply.

And several hours later, he did.

* * *

A/N: That's it! I planned this to be a five or six chapter little story and it's still 40k words. Yikes! Apparently brevity isn't my strong suit.

Thank you, all of you, so much for all your lovely reviews and the faves/follows, and just for reading. You're too kind! Up soon will be a ridiculous little romp in a direction I'm fairly certain Edith and Anthony haven't been yet. :)

Happy reading, and writing, and as always, Long Live Andith!  
Eleanor


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